Finally he says, “It was supposed to be for work.”
“But now it isn’t?”
His gaze drops to my mouth again. His voice comes out husky. “I don’t know what it is now.”
I’m electrified. Every one of my nerves is standing on end, screaming, and all it took is this dark-eyed stranger looking at me in a certain way.
A certain hungry, ambivalent way. The way a starving man would look at a steak he desperately wanted to eat but also knew was filled with poison.
I recall my first impression of him when I saw him at the bar last night, how I told Sloane he looked like he walked off the set of Sons of Anarchy, and understand on a cellular level that the man sitting across from me is someone for whom the normal rules of society don’t apply.
I also understand that he’s dangerous.
And that he wants me but doesn’t want to.
And that I want him, too, but shouldn’t.
Because people who stick a hand too close to a lion’s mouth will come away with a bloody stump where that hand used to be.
The waiter arrives. Kage sends him away with a royally dismissive flick of his fingers, never taking his gaze off me.
When he’s gone, Kage says, “So your fiancé disappeared. And for the next five years, on every anniversary of what would’ve been your wedding day, you get drunk.”
“It sounds worse when you say it out loud. Do I need to be afraid of you?”
We stare at each other across the table. The silence is electric. If he’s surprised by my question, it doesn’t show.
He says softly, “What if I said yes?”
“Then I’d take you at your word and drive straight to the nearest police station. Are you saying yes?”
He hesitates. “Most people who know me are.”
My heart pounds so hard, I’m surprised he can’t hear it. “I want a yes or a no.”
“Would you believe me if I said no?”
I reply instantly, without thinking. “Yes. You’re not the kind of man who hides behind lies.”
He considers me in blistering, unblinking silence, slowly turning the cigar round and round between his thumb and forefinger. Finally, he says gruffly, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
The breath I’ve been holding comes out in a rush. “That’s not an answer.”
“I’m getting there.”
“Get there faster.”
On his lips appears that faint approximation of a smile. “I’ve already told you I’m not a knight in shining armor—”
“There’s miles between that and what I asked.”
He growls, “Interrupt me again and I’ll take you over my knee right here and spank that perfect ass of yours until you’re screaming.”
Coming from anyone else, a statement like that—spoken in such a hard, dominating tone—would make me furious.
Coming from him, it almost makes me moan out loud with desire.
I bite my tongue and glare at him, unsure which one of us I dislike more at the moment.
He crushes his cigar in the ashtray, drags a hand through his dark hair, and moistens his lips. Then he shakes his head, laughing ruefully.
“All right. You want an answer? Here it is.”
He stares into my eyes, laughter fading, until he’s all hard jaw and thinned lips and smoldering hotness. “No. You don’t have to be afraid of me. Even if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t.”
I lift my brows. “Somehow, that’s not exactly reassuring.”
“Take it or leave it. It’s the truth.”
The waiter returns, grinning. Without looking away from me, Kage growls at him, “Come over again when you haven’t been called and I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
I’ve never seen a man spin around and run away so quickly.
Feeling dangerously reckless, I say, “Since you’re in a truth-telling mood, why did you pay for your house in cash?”
“To launder the money. Don’t repeat that to anyone. Next question.”
My mouth opens. For several moments, nothing comes out. When I manage to compose myself, I say, “Why would you trust me with something like that?”
“Because I want you to trust me.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you. And I suspect getting to have you requires a certain level of trust. I can tell you’re not the type who sleeps around. Next question.”
God, my heart is beating so, so fast. So fast, I can barely breathe. Also, I think I might have whiplash.
I say, “Are you always this…”
“Direct? Yes.”
“I was going to say contradictory. Yesterday, it seemed like you hated me. I’m still not sure you don’t.”
His voice drops. “Yesterday, you weren’t under my protection. Now you are.”
His eyes are hypnotic. His voice is hypnotic. This man is putting me under a spell. “I’m pretty sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you believe you’re safe with me.”
My laugh is faint. “Safe with you? God, no. I think I’m in more danger around you than I have been with any other man before in my life.”
Something about that pleases him. His lips curve, but he shakes his head. “You know what I mean.”
“Check back with me later. My brain isn’t working right at the moment.”
His tone gently chiding, he says, “I want a yes or a no.”
“Throwing my words back at me won’t help your cause.”
“Decide soon. We don’t have much time.”
“Why is that?”
“I won’t be in town long.”
That shuts me up for a good thirty seconds. I become aware that we’ve both leaned closer toward each other over the table and are locked in a tense little bubble to the exclusion of everyone and everything else, but I feel oddly powerless to resist.
Now I understand how moths feel around open flames.
“Why did you buy a house here if you’re not going to stay?”
“I already told you that.”
He reaches across the table. Slowly and gently, he skims his thumb over my cheekbone and down to my jaw, his heated gaze following the path of his finger.
Goose bumps break out all over my arms. My nipples tingle. I lick my lips, fighting dueling urges to lunge across the table and kiss him or run away screaming.
This is insane. You’re too sensible for this. Get up from the table and walk away.
I manage to ignore the voice of reason in my head. “How long will you be here?”
“A few days. I need to kiss you.”
“No.” It’s faint and not altogether convincing.
“Then come sit on my lap and let me finger fuck you while I feed you dinner.”
To manage the explosion of shock and lust that astonishing sentence caused in my body, I sit back abruptly in my chair and look away, choking out a disbelieving laugh.
“It must be all the champagne I’ve had. There’s no possible way you just said that.”
“I said it. And you liked it.” After a pause, he demands, “Look at me.”
“I can’t. This is crazy. I’ve known you for twenty-four hours. No one has ever spoken to me like that before in my life, not even my fiancé.”