Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(63)

Henrik held tight to his grip on the lust when it tried to run rampant. This was why he shouldn’t have followed her inside. How was he going to walk out in a matter of minutes? How? He swung his hand in an upward slap, glancing off her left ass cheek. Harder than the first time, due in part to his frustration. He could hear Ailish’s fingernails scratching on the wall as he delivered another smack. Another. “No more teasing while we’re inside this house. No more.” Smack. “I can’t fight two wars at once.”

“Fine,” she sobbed. “No more teasing.”

His relief only made a brief appearance before he shot back toward blanketing desire. “When we get out, you can make me miserable all you want. When putting my cock in your pretty body won’t get us both killed.”

The next spank was firm and brooked no dissent. Ailish’s low moan had Henrik running a hand up the inside of her thigh and finding dampness. She tried to slide her legs back together with a sound of protest, but he kept them spread. The muscles of her backside flexed in his hand, an annoyed sound coming from her mouth. A solution occurred to him in that moment. An undesirable one, but a solution he sorely required. The only way he would make it out of Ailish’s room without giving in to the endless need to be inside her was to make her angry. Or keep her angry, rather. Shit, he didn’t want to do it. Having her mad and disappointed in him was like being strangled with fishing wire. Pushing her further away would be a hundred times worse. Still.

Think beyond the moment. This closet.

“Remember what I told you in the cabin, Ailish?”

When her answer emerged slurred, Henrik wanted to slam his head against the wall. She needed him. She needed him, and he had to leave. “W-which…what thing?”

He gave her one final glance of his palm, which shot her into a tiptoe position with a soft yelp. “You’re not the only one who can tease,” Henrik breathed in her ear before forcing himself to step back. Away from the warm, pliant perfection of her body, positioned as she was for a dirty, hot f*ck.

“Get out,” came her voice in the darkness. When he made it to the bedroom door, he refused to let himself acknowledge the tears in her voice. If he acknowledged them, he would go mad. Would never escape the need to hold her. Make everything better.

“Lock the door behind me and stay put,” Henrik commanded, even though there was little point in directing her. Not when the only way he would leave his position outside her door was in a body bag.





Chapter Seventeen


Father and daughter stared each other down across the dining room table. Caine was an early riser, so Ailish had thought it safe to venture downstairs for something to eat, but he’d surprised her by walking out of the kitchen just as she entered. Whistling. Looking far less on edge than he had the prior afternoon, but just as mean. His good morning, daughter, had been nothing short of mocking. The old Ailish would have grabbed a bowl of raisin bran and scurried back upstairs. She wasn’t going to retreat, however, so there they sat. Waiting for the other to speak or eat or move first. Perhaps it shouldn’t have felt so unexpectedly exhilarating.

Oh, but it did. She’d finally succeeded in getting away the last time. And even though Caine didn’t know she was back home of her own volition, she did.

I’m not your weak-willed lackey anymore.

Yes, she certainly hadn’t anticipated breaking bread with her father ever again. Nor had she expected to find Henrik standing sentry outside her bedroom door upon exiting. The sight of him had brought her up short in the doorway, heart leaping, body crying out to make contact with his sturdy, reassuring form. She had just spent half an hour beneath the shower spray, wincing as the hot water cascaded down the raw flesh on her bottom. Loving it. Loving the knowledge that he’d been pushed far enough to inflict the delicious kind of pain. Hating what had come after. Would he apologize? Would he whisper that he missed her? But he’d only looked at her head to toe, his gaze full of meaning she couldn’t interpret? then turned and disappeared around the corner of the hall, the outline of a gun at the small of his back.

Ailish had been out of line last night. She could admit that. In the light of day, she saw her behavior for what it was. A desperate attempt to recapture her sanity. Her independence and control. The darkness of night and the racy new desires Henrik had coaxed to life had made her reckless. Letting go of her anger toward Henrik’s high-handed betrayal wasn’t an option, not when it felt so imperative she remain true to her decisions, hard as they were to keep. They were all she had. And this case deserved her full attention. Communicating with Derek was first on her to-do list. And while they’d planned on Henrik being the one to leave the house to make contact, she felt the pressing need to take initiative. To be useful.

She’d started by working through the need. Getting as far ahead as possible on Caine’s list, just in case he dropped by to check. Truthfully, it would be no sweat delivering what Caine wanted by tomorrow. Her father had always demanded she keep their dealings on paper, paranoid about hard drives being confiscated or hacked, but he hadn’t made that specification this time around. Ailish was inputting the data with one hand into a spreadsheet, which performed most of the calculations for her, speeding the process along considerably. She was already much further ahead than Caine would expect by this point.

With that assurance in mind, she picked up her cereal spoon without breaking the staring contest. “I need to go out. To pick up some things from the drugstore.”