“I don’t know,” I say again, calmer this time, and my chest heaves as I sit up straight.
He goes to the bar in the corner and pours himself a glass of something amber-colored. With his back to me, he tilts the glass to his lips and downs it in one gulp.
“Who are you?” he asks as he pours more amber liquid into his glass. He doesn’t drink it this time, nor does he turn to face me.
His shoulders, which are broad and strong, now hold a slight rounding to them as if he’s feels defeated.
“What do you want me to say? I’m in this weird, freaky boat the same as you. Whatever is happening, it’s happening to both of us. So maybe instead of being a jerk, you could treat me like a person and we could work on figuring it out together.” I cross my arms over my chest and stare at his back, hoping he can feel my gaze burning through him.
He throws his head back violently as he downs the contents of the glass. I flinch when it hits the wooden top of the bar. His shoulders pull tight as his back expands with a deep inhale.
When he turns to face me, his eyes are completely devoid of any kind of emotion. Like two black, dead stones staring back at me. He walks across the space and snatches up his suit jacketfrom the floor. But he doesn’t put it on like I expect. He reaches inside and fishes out a flat, silver case from the inside pocket before tossing it down carelessly. He practically stomps his way over to the set of French doors on the far side of the room. With an aggravated grunt, he yanks both doors open, leaving them swinging wide as he steps out onto the covered area beyond. Fresh air drifts in, smelling sweet and earthy. He lights up a cigarette after retrieving it from the case.
I can’t stop watching him. Even in his frustration, he is… magnificent. A ruggedness that is terrifying yet also handsome. I wouldn’t say the man has charisma, exactly, but there is something that pulls you in. Or maybe I’m just extremely messed up.
This man is deadly. He’s not nice, and he’s definitely not someone I should spend time with. I know this, but no matter how many times I tell myself I need to get out of this situation, I can’t urge myself to. I think something has brought us together, and we need to figure it out before we go our separate ways.
When he turns around and those dead eyes land on me again, I stare back defiantly, almost daring him to make the next move. Smoke curls out of his mouth before he exhales hard. It’s eerie how I lose sight of his eyes for a second before the thick, white smoke dissipates. He’s still staring at me, eyes dark.
I’m drawn to him. My feet work slowly until the tips of my shoes are pressed against his. I don’t miss the surprise twitch of his eyebrows. It’s a flash before he covers it with a scowl. I let my gaze drop to his chest as my fingers tentatively brush the fabric of his shirt aside.
The inky lines running under his skin are still there. I can’t seem to place the curling and circling symbol. The odd way the lines cross through it doesn’t make sense to me, but I can’t explain why. His skin is hot against the tips of my fingers as I trace the lines of the symbol. Smoke dances between us fromhis burning cigarette. The smell is harsh, but I get a waft of something warm underneath that almost calms me.
He takes another drag before he stubs it out against the rough iron railing. Then he drops it to the ground and grinds it under his shoe for good measure. We are standing on wood, and I’d hate to see this beautiful house go up in flames, especially with me in it.
I gasp when his big hand comes to rest on the side of my neck. He’s watching the movement as he slides his hand down my shoulder. Even as my sweater falls, he doesn’t stop pushing it out of the way. Completely paralyzed under his touch, I let him do whatever he wants. I won’t admit it, but I like his hand on me. I like the shiver that runs down my spine and the dreamy urge to close my eyes.
I focus on the symbol on his chest as he begins to trace the lines of the one marring my skin. It feels like we’re in sync as we’re pulled into a strange trance neither of us can seem to shake. The pad of his finger is rough, but his touch is light. It’s doing things to my brain. When I look into his eyes, I can see it’s messing with his head, too.
The tip of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, and now I’m stuck on how soft his lips look.
I’m thrown back to that night. To when he kissed me. His kisses had been commanding, almost brutal, at first. But then he took his time distracting me as if he could sense the slight discomfort I was having, and unexpectedly, his touch turned almost tender and caring.Almost.
But I don’t think I get any of that now.
I can’t say how it happens, but the next time I inhale, his lips press against mine. I taste the harshness of the lingering smoke and a faint sweetness from the alcohol when his tongue slips into my mouth and licks over my own. My hands fist the open sides of his shirt so I can pull him closer. His fingers tanglein my hair as he deepens the kiss. I open up for him with zero protest.
His arms are around me now, pulling me into his body as he grinds his hardness against my hip. I moan, wishing he would lift me up. I want to feel it between my thighs.
The shrill sound of a metal hinge in serious need of oiling fills the air.
Donovan pushes me away so fast that our lips make a sucking sound as they’re torn apart.
He looks over his shoulder, his focus down on the courtyard below. There’s a man there, staring up at us with a raised brow.
“Fuck,” Donovan says under his breath. When his eyes meet mine, his scowl deepens. “What the fuck have you done to me?!”
He storms past me and is back in the room before I have the chance to say anything. Not like it matters because my head is still spinning from that kiss.
Yeah, I’m going to need a minute before I go back inside.
NINE
Donovan
I step out into the hall where Torrin is standing.
He looks at me with a brow raised but waits for me to speak first.
