His eyes are calm. Patient. Hungry. But it’s the black leather gloves on his hands that send a fresh spike of fear through me. Because gloves mean no fingerprints. And if he’s here to kill me, he wouldn’t want to leave evidence behind.
I steady my voice, gun still in hand. “What thehellare you doing here?”
His mouth curves into that signature smirk, the one that makes my nipples pebble beneath my thin white tank top—and God help me, I make no move to hide it.
“I apologize for startling you, Ms. Monroe,” he drawls, words thick with dark amusement. “I only came to make sure you’re alright. The DeLucas—the ones behind the hotel incident—are still out there. And I’d hate to lose such a…valuable employee.”
“I’m alive. You can go now.”
Please get the fuck out of here because you make me suffocate.
“I think what you meant to say is, ‘Thank you, sir, for watching over me.’”
That’s definitely not what I meant.
He rises slowly, like a panther about to pounce. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”
Presumptuous asshole.
“As you can clearly see, I’m fine, so you can leave. Breaking into my home in the middle of the night isn’t just inappropriate. It’s insane.”
“Are we back to pretending the other night never happened?”
The closer he gets, the heavier the thud of his footfalls becomes,and the more I contemplate whether shooting him between his eyes right now would be all that bad.
“The other night was a mistake. A one-time mistake. That’s all.”
“Mm.” He settles beside me, removing one of his gloves with slow precision. “No, malen’kaya. That was just the beginning.”
Reaching out, his fingers brush a few strands of hair from my face. The gentleness is terrifying and alluring all at once. It’s what makes him so much more dangerous. Powerful.
How can he so easily be both monster and man in the span of a breath?
“Look, you need to go,” I whisper, but the words lack conviction, thin and useless against the tension crackling between us. “I need sleep. Okay?”
But he makes no attempts to move, fingers lingering on my skin, dragging heat through every nerve, making my stomach twist and my pulse thrum like a warning I’m too tired to fight. All I want is to close my eyes and give in, to stop resisting this dangerous pull between us.
But I can’t afford that. Not with him. Not when everything I am is built on keeping him out.
And the more he touches me, the harder it becomes to fight whatever this is.
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says. “Your safety is not negotiable.”
“I can take care of myself. In case you forgot, I took care of you too.”
His stormy laughter rattles through the walls. “I will admit, you can handle yourself with a weapon.” His hand slides to my jaw, and my breath stutters. “But luck runs out. Next time, you could be outnumbered. And I won’t risk that.” His fingers tighten just slightly, eyes searing into mine. “Not with you.”
Not with me?
The words resonate, sharp and disorienting.
Why?
His gaze dips to my mouth like he wants more of what he’s already tasted. My skin hums, alive with anticipation, every inch of me pulled taut with desire.
“Why do you even care what happens to me?” The question slips out, barely a breath.
A slow smirk curves his lips, equal parts threatening and devastating. “Now, that’s the million-dollar question.” His thumb glides across my lower lip, sending a tremor down my spine. “I don’t have an answer. All I know is you’re the only brand of poison I want bleeding through my veins.”
