Vengeance Aside (Wanted Men 0.5)(28)

The control he’d always taken for granted when it came to women was circling the drain faster and faster. Should he punish her for teasing him? Strip her and fuck her until her shields fell? Maybe he should give her hell for continuously trying to shut him out when he genuinely wanted to know her?

Or did he do what was right and have some patience with her considering he’d landed in her life like a bloodied sledgehammer, and she likely needed at least a few hours to get used to his presence.

“This kitchen is for our private use. The main kitchen is on the other side of the house.” He took a drink of wine that tasted exactly as she’d described it. “When the time comes, I am going to enjoy watching you ride me. I won’t fight your need to control your pleasure.” He stepped in between her spread legs as her gaze flattened because he hadn’t taken her bait. “I won’t fight your need for anything, except freedom. You no longer possess the right to that.” He laid his hand over her mouth when it flew open. “I know that will anger you, but I don’t mean it in the sense you’re happily taking it. Until you learn the ways of this life, I must keep you sheltered. Because the moment word gets out that I have taken a partner, the vultures will descend. And if you think for one minute I could leave you vulnerable, you haven’t been listening at all.”

She pulled his hand down. “I’m not going to be your partner. I’ll meet your dad for reasons unknown, and I’ll spend a night or two in your bed, but that’s it.”

Why was she fighting this so hard? Having to ease her into forever with him wasn’t only frustrating, it was beginning to feel insulting. Was she really going to make him work for it? He was a goddamn catch in elite circles, for fuck’s sake. Women loved him. Why didn’t she?

The only reason he could think was that she was protecting herself. She was centering on sex and avoiding anything to do with emotion and feelings. The same way he used to.

“I will not hurt you, yagodka,” he said in a gentle tone. “And I will never let anyone else hurt you.”

Her beautifully arched eyebrows snapped together. “Says the guy who killed a man by impaling his brain with a weapon I supplied,” she said hotly.

He loosely clasped her legs just above the knee and could feel a tremble going through her. “Are you still upset that I inadvertently made you an accomplice to Nero’s murder?” Now she was just grasping at straws.

“Ya think?”

“Is that why you’re shaking?”

“No. I’m hungry. All I’ve eaten since breakfast is three donuts, and I only ate those because I was feeling sorry for myself but pretending not to.”

He wanted to kiss the fucking breath out of her. “Why were you feeling sorry for yourself?”

“Because I get weak sometimes.”

A non-answer, but an enlightening one just the same. “So you’re hard on yourself, are you? Would you by any chance be allergic to anything?”

As he stepped away, she opened her mouth to answer but hesitated just long enough for him to know she was about to lie to him. His anger ignited that she would try.

“Tons. You might want to seriously consider letting me go because, if you meant it and you don’t want to hurt me, you’re going to end up killing me by feeding me something you shouldn’t. I’ll be the most high-maintenance kidnapping victim you’ve ever kept in this…this…place.” She raised two fingers. “Swear to God.”

Lukas walked away. He went over and buried his grinning face in the refrigerator. Her ridiculous speech aside, she’d raised two fingers, but not in a typical scout’s honor—which was really three fingers—with the digits side by side. She’d crossed hers in the type of gesture one generally hid behind their back.

As his humor subsided, he took out an antipasto tray and returned to his entertainment.

“I would like you to tell me exactly what you are unable to eat, and why.” He removed the glass cover and set the tray beside Dale on the counter before breaking the bread apart with his hands. “Well?” He didn’t bother with plates, but he did go back to the fridge to get a container of fresh mozzarella that he opened and sliced on a wooden cutting board. He glanced up.

“Uh…” The striking green of her eyes shrunk as her pupils dilated. “You’ll have to give me a minute. I can’t think right now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid of you.”

Liar. He was looking at desire, not fear. “That will pass soon enough.” But he’d go along with it for her sake.

“Is that what always happens?”

“What do you mean?”

“With your victims. Does their fear wear off in so short a time?”

“My victims.”

“Yes. Your kidnapping victims.”

Ah. Of course. He picked up a cherry tomato and wrapped it in a piece of shaved prosciutto. He brought it to her mouth. “Open. As you are my first victim…” He paused. “Female victim,” he clarified, “I can’t say.”

She pulled her head back a little. “You’ve kidnapped men before?”

“Not for the same purpose.”

“And what purpose is that?”

“To make you my wife and have a houseful of babies.” Could he be any clearer? “Open for me, Dale.”