Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(9)

Henrik inclined his head, face betraying his obvious satisfaction. “Baby, you just did.”





Chapter Three


Yeah. Despite the promise Henrik had made to Ailish, there was no way in hell he was sleeping tonight. There had been a significant part of him that wondered if the initial impact of Ailish that day in the park was all in his head. That his memory of her beauty, the husky notes in her voice, had been embellished over time to justify what he’d done to keep her out of prison.

Oh no. She actually had the nerve to be better than his memory. He’d expected quiet dignity. Or caginess. Why wouldn’t the daughter of a violent crime boss be cautious and jaded? Instead, however, she was this irresistible f*cking combination of wit and innocence, rolled together in an adorably sexy package. And after fantasizing about her for months, here they were, crammed inside a bathroom, Ailish in pajamas with no bra underneath, him without a shirt. If this were one of his fantasies, his next move would be pushing her forward over the sink, tugging down those tights that clung to her ass, and railing her from behind.

This was not one of his fantasies, though, and Ailish didn’t know him from a hole in the wall. She shouldn’t have let him into the cabin without some identification, let alone be pressing her body up against him as she tended his wound. Her lips were pursed as she worked, blotting away the excess blood with breathy little apologies that made him feel like a bastard for the creative ways he’d dreamed of screwing her senseless. Yeah, she definitely wouldn’t want to be in such close quarters with a man who’d imagined her kneeling enough times to sustain permanent rug burns.

Couldn’t he have pictured her doing something innocent at least once? Knitting, picking flowers, reciting poetry…anything.

He should leave the bathroom now. Fix his own bandage and pop a few Advil. But dammit if his feet weren’t buried in concrete, refusing to carry him away from Ailish. Her scent reminded him of summertime, all sunbaked and fresh. God, he couldn’t inhale it fast enough. She had a twitch, too. It was so subtle, most people probably didn’t even notice it, but every couple minutes, her right eye did a little half wink. Like a wince, but a million times cuter.

Unfortunately there was nothing cute about his cock at the moment. Between finding Ailish gone in Wisconsin, driving back to Chicago, then immediately turning around and speeding north to Michigan, there had been scant time for stroking off, a task he’d been performing on a regular basis since the day she’d spoken to him in the park. Had it been three days since he’d found her missing? Four? Having the object of his lust so close was a recipe for disaster in his restless state. Already, moisture crowned on the head of his dick where it laid swelling inside the right leg of his jeans. He should move away now. This was a job. He’d come here to protect her, not assuage his sick infatuation.

A waterfall of red hair got in the way of her ministrations so she shoved it back over her shoulder, sending a waft of summertime into the air. “How did you find me, Henrik?”

Oh f*ck. Don’t go saying my name. “We tracked your cell phone to a tower about eight miles from here. This was the closest rental park, so I took a chance. A phone call from my superior convinced them to be helpful at the front office.” His hand flexed at his side with the need to adjust himself. Don’t do it. She’ll notice. “We need to destroy your phone as soon as possible. If we tracked it, someone else could do it, too.”

“My father, you mean,” she murmured, before ripping a piece of white medical tape with her teeth, nearly wrenching a groan from Henrik. “You keep saying we. Who is we?”

“I work with an undercover squad.” His voice emerged like a growl rippling through a dark tunnel. “Sort of an unofficial branch of the police department. We’re not technically cops, we just do their dirty work.”

“And I’m considered dirty work?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Henrik said. “There’s nothing dirty about you.”

She looked up at him through a sea of black eyelashes. “You’d be surprised.”

Even though he was fully aware she couldn’t possibly have meant the rejoinder to sound sexual, Henrik’s hungry thoughts had a hard time processing it any other way. Jesus, he needed to get some air before he did something embarrassing. Or against the rules. But the depraved man on the inside, the one who finally stood in front of the woman who’d robbed his concentration for months, wanted to press her into acknowledging an awareness between them. To prove he wasn’t alone. “Some men might take what you said as an invitation, Ailish. Are you always so reckless?”

“Invitation for wha—” Her head came up, gaze focusing on him. “Oh. Well.” Her gulp was audible. “I guess you’re not talking about a party.”

I’m going to hell for wanting to corrupt this girl. “No. I’m not.” Deep breath. “But I should be. I should be talking to you about anything but invitations. Like your favorite pizza toppings or scary movie.”

“Pepperoni and Poltergeist,” she whispered. “But to answer your first question…yes. I am reckless. And stubborn. We’ve only been friends for five minutes and you already know my two greatest faults.”

It must have been the way she couldn’t stop staring at his mouth, but God help him, he stepped closer, careful to keep his hips angled away, so she wouldn’t feel his erection. “You forgot about dirty.”