Chapter 11
WHERE I WANT YOU
GRAYSON
The look on London’s face makes the risk worth it. She stands frozen, those dark eyes wide, soft lips parted. So fucking beautiful. Her expression is guarded, but I can see the flicker of relief just beneath.
I step into her office and ease the door shut behind me. The muted click echoes in the silence, sealing us inside. “Hi, doc.”
Her fists unclench. “Jesus, Grayson. What are you doing here? Are you—?”
“Mad?” I supply.
She drops her handbag on the desk. “I’m being watched. Your actions are reckless. If you were my patient—”
“I still am—”
“—I would question if you were devolving. Becoming unbalanced. And yes, maybe a touch crazy.” She bites her bottom lip. “And you are not my patient.”
“What am I, then?” I cross the room, coasting up close enough to her I can smell her lilac body lotion, the lavender notes in her hair. Hunger stirs.
She visibly shivers as she looks up at me. “Dangerous.”
Her hair is down, falling in a loose tumble over her shoulders. The way I love it, like she knew I was coming for her. I brush the soft strands behind her ear, leaning down to whisper, “And you’re a paradox, love.”
A charged current snaps between us, and she physically reacts to my nearness, my touch. The air is electrified. I feel the snag in her breath as it pulses across my skin.
Slowly, I remove her glasses and set them on the desk, revealing her eyes to me.
“Besides,” I say as I step back, taking her hand in mine. “By all accounts, this is the safest place to be.” I lead her to the adjoining hallway, drawing a finger along the fish tank, and I give her a wink. “Good memories.”
Before she can respond, I press her back against the glass, my hands gripping her waist. The rest of the office is dark, but she’s lit by the glow of the tank.
I lean down close to her mouth, watching the way her features tighten as though she’s in pain.
The same fiery ache burns through me. Even the threat of touching her skin is enough to hurt.
The best kind of anticipation.
She blinks up at me, her voice a low rasp when she says, “A paradox isn’t exactly a compliment.”
Mouth hovers closer to hers, feeling the light pulse of her breath. “Unless you enjoy puzzles.” I brush my lips across hers, the softest tease. “And you’re my favorite, London.”
Her hands move to my arms, fingers curling into the material of my shirt, just as desperate for the fire to singe her. “This isn’t a game, Grayson.”
I slide my hands up her slim waist, grazing the sides of her breasts, until I reach her neck. My fingers anchor at her nape as I tip her head back, thumbs pressing into the delicate curve of her jaw.
She’s such a perfect fit.
“Sometimes I forget,” I murmur, “you like your patients easy to control.” I pause, letting the implication linger between us. “I suppose that goes for your boy toys, too.”
Heat flushes her face. “Thrill-seeking behavior isn’t like you,” she says, ignoring my baiting remark. “It will get you caught—” her pretty eyes flare “—again.”
A slow smirk tips the corner of my mouth. “How do you know that I didn’t get caught on purpose the first time.”
Her gaze flicks over my face, searching. “And did you?”
“Mmm,” I hum, impatient as I press my hips against hers, letting her feel exactly what she’s doing to me. “I’ve been off the clock a long time, doctor. Let’s move on.”
“Grayson—” she breathes, pushing at my chest, but it’s half-hearted. “The FBI are watching me. They can just show up here at any time. I’m not safe.”
I stare down at her, at the strain in her features, the fear behind her eyes. She’s serious. She’s afraid for me. With a gentle touch, I brush my finger along her cheek. “If they like to watch, we should give them a show.”
Defiance sparks in her eyes. Dr. Noble doesn’t back down from a dare.
“I see you,” I whisper against her lips. “I could feel your pain fucking miles away. I know what you need.” I sweep my tongue over bottom lip before I slant my mouth over hers.
She moans into the kiss, turning it urgent, as we drown out the fear, the threats, the pain—all of it dissolving in the heat of one kiss.
She’s the only thing that makes the compulsions quiet—a still reed in the eye of my storm.
And fuck, she kisses me back with a bruising demand that steals my breath. Every muscle coils tight as I cage her body with mine, desperate for more.
There’s no give between us. Only take.
We’re feeding off each other—starved, unrepentant.
I pin her wrists to the glass, stealing her control. The same way she hates to love me—but I’m her own sick compulsion, the sick need that drives her.
She bites into the kiss and draws blood. The sting sparks a surge of desire, liquid fire pouring through my veins. Pain and pleasure wrestle for dominance, each feeding the other.
She turns her face and gasps for air, breaking the kiss, but not the need.
“Stop,” she says through a ragged breath. “You have to go.”
Anger flares, as hot and violent as my need for her. “Is this London talking, or Lydia?”
Her body stills as her gaze meets mine, burning with fury. She wrenches her wrists free and shoves me aside. The loss of her touch is immediate agony.
Without a word, she turns and steps into the dark therapy room, arms crossing tightly over her chest. “Where did you get the uniform, Grayson?”
Ironic. The good doctor using avoidance.
I lean against the wall at the end of the gallery, tracking her quick movements as she switches on a lamp.
“The guards leave them in their lockers overnight,” I say as I start to unbutton the shirt.
“Figured no one would question a security officer roaming the building.” I tug off the uniform shirt and toss it on the writing desk, then I untuck the white T-shirt from my slacks. “But that’s not what you’re asking.”
She faces me, features tight. “Considering the last time you stole a uniform?” She raises an eyebrow. “I’m asking if anyone in my building was harmed.”
“Are you truly concerned, or are you just worried about an investigation that could connect you.”
She inhales a deep breath, her chest rising. “You know that would be unwise.”
She’s right, of course. My behavior is borderline Neanderthal. I could whip my dick out and start marking my territory and it wouldn’t shock her. She’s assessing me right now, anticipating my next move.
I start toward her. “I didn’t harm anyone,” I tell her, which isn’t a lie. Lawson is still alive and intact.
She nods. “You have to find a way to alert me, to let me know…” She trails off with a huff of frustration. “It’s not fair that you know where I am at any given moment, and I have no idea where you are.”
I stop short of reaching her. There it is, the root of her anger.
It brings a crooked smile to my face. “Being on the run gets tedious. Makes for a dull romance.” I push the patient chair aside and kick the rug away, revealing the floor manacle.
“Do you want me to take a seat so you can dig around in my mind. Get your doctor rocks off.”
She’s not amused. “I just want a head’s up, Grayson. I don’t like surprises.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Like our agent friend gives you? He’s so well behaved, isn’t he?”
I can almost feel her defenses raise. “You’re being hostile,” she accuses.
“I’m bored, London. There’s a difference.” I sit in the chair. “I bet you have some extra chains and cuffs around here.”
She eases closer. “You trust me that much? To shackle you, to take away your ability to escape?”
“I trust your reasoning to do so, if it came to that.”
The room grows quiet with the heavy pause. London runs her palms down her skirt, working out imaginary creases. “You’d pick the lock, regardless,” she says. “Where did you learn that talent, anyway?”
I gift her a wry smile, avoiding her question. “You felt more in control when I was locked up. Maybe that’s the spark that’s missing. Don’t you feel it lately, like something is amiss?”
“Are you jealous of Agent Nelson?” she asks outright, shifting the topic. No dancing around a matter when her professional mask is in place.
“He’s obsessed,” I say. “I can’t be jealous. I empathize. No, that’s wrong. I pity him.”
Nothing compares to the ecstasy I feel with London. If I’m being honest, this is a poor attempt to fill the well. Once you ascend so high, the plummet afterward leaves a gaping hole, the addiction that much harder to feed.
I understand Nelson’s urges all too well. The driving need to see her, hear her voice, plot the moment they’ll meet. I really do pity him.
The seething look London sends me ignites my skin.
“His mind is probably a chew toy by now.” I rub my palms along the leather arms of the chair, enjoying the freedom I never experienced here before.
“I wouldn’t know,” she says, drawing my attention back to her. “I’m not evaluating him.”
My brows crease. “You’re such a fucking paradox.”
“I’m not playing mind games with you, Grayson.”
“And yet, you’re dying to know.”
A battle of wills arcs between us. She yields first. “All right. Tell me why, then.”
“Because of your desire to embrace Lydia.” I can be pointblank, too. “To be this better version that you believe was stolen away. Don’t deny it. You forget that I know you, love.”
Her walls erect. She’s shielding Lydia from London’s world, which means hiding this part of herself from me.
Dangerous.
Her word. I pose a threat to this fragile part of her that she desperately wants to protect. The way she couldn’t protect her or her sister. Psychology is a nasty little twist.
“I’m not embracing anything,” she finally says. “Lydia Prescott would not be here right now. She wouldn’t be with you. Clearly, I am.”
I study her closely. How much of a threat does Lydia pose to us? “I think I could seduce Lydia,” I say.
“How very cocky of you.” London shakes her head. “Is that a challenge?”
“You know how much I enjoy a challenge.”