Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(43)

If possible, his big body went even more still. “Excuse me?”

“How did you get here? With me?” Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. “Why were we in this together from the moment you showed up? I don’t understand it even though—”

He snagged her around the waist with a powerful forearm, jerking her into the warmth of his body. But instead of kissing her as she’d anticipated—and yeah, kind of needed to go on living—he simply closed the car door and spun her around to face the vehicle. “Even though what, Ailish?”

“I don’t understand why we’re a team…even though it feels like that’s how it’s supposed to be.” She stared up at Henrik’s reflection in the passenger-side window, saw his eyes close and wondered at that response. “Why did we feel like a foregone conclusion when you walked into my cabin?”

“What is this?” Henrik breathed into her ear. “Another attempt to seduce me so you can get away? I won’t let it work. I can’t.”

Ailish’s hands were drawn to the small of her back. When she felt the metal closing around her wrists, heard the metallic clink, her fate was sealed. So why was she more focused on the man standing so close, breathing into her hair like he’d just run a marathon? Her loins pulsated, body crying out for more contact. Craving it. As if she’d made the plea out loud, Henrik’s lap fit against her bottom and they both released pent-up exhales of air. God, she could actually feel their connection, like a spinning, golden flame in her belly that only he knew how to extinguish. She had no idea where the words she said next came from, only knew they’d been unveiled from their hiding place in the back of her mind. “Did you want me that day in the park, Henrik?”

“Yes.” He stumbled forward, forcing Ailish up against the side of the truck. “I wanted to undress you, right f*cking there. Rip the dress off your tight body. You don’t know, baby. You don’t know.”

A moan ripped through her vocal cords, fogging up the car window. She made no secret of being turned on when a man desired her to the point of pain—but the confession from Henrik was utopia. This sexual giant of a man could barely stand under the weight of his need, and it hypnotized Ailish, flushed her head to toe. She reached back into her memory bank and remembered that day…how exhausted and downtrodden she’d been, unable to attempt garnering notice in her usual manner. And he’d wanted her anyway. He wanted her now, a fact made unshakable by him pushing his erection into her restrained hands.

“I’m so hot,” she whimpered. “I need to have you.”

His groan was agonized, but the sound was followed by his tongue licking up the side of her neck. A bite of her earlobe. “We can’t. We—you’re handcuffed.” His palms slapped down on the passenger-side door, caging in her body. “Fuck, you’re my prisoner, Ailish. Everything is different now.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said huskily, massaging the bulge of his manhood with what little mobility she could muster. God, she wanted all of him. Needed to touch everywhere. Right now. “We both know the handcuffs don’t mean anything.”

Where was this conviction coming from? Ailish couldn’t pinpoint the location, only knew it was deep down, where nothing could shake it. She could feel Henrik teetering on an imaginary fence behind her, so close to being pushed to one side, but she couldn’t tell which. “We need to walk,” Henrik growled, negating that desire a split second later by wedging her more firmly against the truck.

“You really think—” Ailish broke off when his right hand cupped her breast and squeezed. God yes. Touch me. I forgot how to live without your hands on me. “You really think we can turn this off?”

“Not in this lifetime.” Henrik’s other hand found her left breast, his thumb strumming over her nipple like she was an instrument to be played. “But you were wrong. The cuffs do mean something. They mean we don’t trust each other. They mean you want to get away from me. I can’t f*ck you when you’d rather be running away.” His hands released her breasts, sliding down her belly to cup the juncture of her thighs in a double grip—roughly—ripping a ragged moan from Ailish. “That would be wrong, baby. So goddamn wrong.”

Her legs wobbled, threatening to give out. “I don’t want to run. I don’t want to run. Please, Henrik. I’m hurting.”

Was that her voice? Her face? The reflection staring back at Ailish was more sexed-up porn star than almost-virgin. Warmth pooled beneath Henrik’s possessive touch, her skin so sensitized that a passing breeze whispering across her cleavage aroused her even more. Oh God, this is torture. How to convince Henrik her need was real and urgent? Not a ploy or a bad thing, like he thought.

It took every iota of Ailish’s willpower to struggle away from Henrik and shuffle past the front bumper. She immediately mourned the loss of his touch to the point that walking was painful. The tops of her thighs were slick with moisture, her bound position forcing her to walk with breasts thrust forward. Everything about the situation provoked her live-wire senses, but she managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other. “If you want to walk, we’ll walk.” When her voice wavered, she lifted her chin to compensate. “I’m not going to beg you.”

Please, please, come get me.

Ailish heard the crunch of leaves behind her, knew Henrik was fast approaching, and her hormones started to spin in mad circles. “You think you’re calling my bluff?” His tone evoked the image of smoking coals. Only a few yards on her trail now. Closer. Come closer. “This isn’t a game we’re playing. I could…” Two big hands grasped her hips, pulling her to a stop. With a crude oath gritted into her ear, one masculine hand slid around and flipped open the button of her jean shorts. His touch descended slowly, delving into the front of her panties. “I could lose the only job I’m qualified for…could compromise the case.”