Chapter 14 #2
I lift an eyebrow. “Yeah. In Dublin. Where you knew every street, every contact, every escape route.” I step closer, lower her hand and crowd her against the counter. “You don't know shit about this city.”
“I know enough.”
“You know how to spot surveillance. That's it.” My arms cage her body, trapping her. “You don't know where to run, where to hide, who to trust.”
Her chin lifts. “I don't trust anyone anyway.”
“No? Then why are you letting me protect you?”
“Because Connor—”
“No, fuck Connor for a minute. Why are you trusting me?”
She opens her mouth to argue, then snaps her lips closed. For a second, I see a flicker of uncertainty in her expression.
“I don't trust you,” she says.
“Liar.”
“I don't.”
“Then why aren't you fighting me harder on this whole marriage?” I lean closer, watching her pulse jump in her throat. “Why aren't you planning some elaborate escape?”
“Maybe I am. You’d have no idea.”
“Are you?”
Her breaths become short and shallow but she doesn’t speak. Conflict flares in her icy blue gaze.
“I hate that I need you,” she bites out.
“I know.” I run my hand down her side, take the knife and reach around her back. After I drop it, I press her into me, she doesn’t resist and her proximity makes my cock throb.
“I hate that I can't just leave.”
“I know that too.”
“And I hate that when you touch me...” Her voice trails off, and she tears her eyes away from me.
“What?” I ask, my voice rough. “What happens when I touch you?”
She still won't look at me. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” I catch her chin with my free hand, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Tell me what happens.”
“Bronx—"
“Tell me.”
“I stop thinking. Okay?” she says, her teeth clenched. “I stop remembering why I should hate you.”
The corners of my lips lift, and I lower my head to hers. “Good.”
“It's not good. It's totally fucked up.”
“Maybe. But at least it's honest.” My thumb strokes across her lower lip. “First honest thing you've said to me.”
“Not true. I've been honest—”
“You've been fighting. There's a difference, princess.”
Her hands come up to push against my chest, but she doesn't actually push. She just rests her palms against me like she can't decide whether to kiss me or pummel me.
“This is a mistake,” she rasps.
“Probably.”
“We shouldn't—”
“Shouldn't what?”
But instead of answering, she fists my shirt and pulls my mouth down to hers.
The kiss is desperate, angry, and full of all the frustration and fear and need she's been holding back. I groan against her mouth and lift her onto the counter, positioning myself between her legs.
“Fuck,” she gasps against my lips as I grind into her.
“Yeah,” I agree, dragging her lower lip through my teeth. “Fuck.”
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer. I can feel the heat of her pussy through the thin fabric of her pants, and it's driving me insane.
“We can't do this,” she whispers, even as her hips rock against mine creating a friction that makes my dick swell to the point where it’s about to explode out of my pants.
“Why not?” I lose my fingers in her hair, tugging it so I can get full access to the slope of her neck.
Her head drops back and she sucks in a breath as my lips trail a scorching path over her skin.
“Because...” She breathes hard, her hands still fisted in my shirt. “Because it's exactly what you want.”
“So?”
“So I'm not falling for your games.” She pulls away and pushes against my chest this time. I step back, my pulse rocketing out of control. “You think you can seduce me into being compliant? Think again.”
She slides off the counter and straightens her clothes.
“I'll stay put. For Connor's sake. But this...” She waves a hand between us. “This is you trying to control me. And I’m never going to allow that to happen.”
"Is that what you really think?” I ask with a roll of my eyes. “Give me a fucking break, Tierney. Why does there have to be an agenda?”
“Because everything you do is about control,” she says. “The protection, the kisses, the concern - all of it's designed to make me dependent on you.”
Tierney stalks to the doorway, then stops when I say, “You know what I think?”
She doesn't turn around. “What?”
“I think you're pissed off because you actually enjoyed that.”
Her shoulders tense. “Go fuck yourself, Bronx.”
I lean against the refrigerator, a grin spreading across my face. “You kissed me back, princess. Hard. Remember?”
She finally slants me a look over her shoulder, eyes blazing. “Don't mistake physical reaction for emotional investment. They are not even close to being one and the same.”
I hold up my hands. “Wouldn't dream of it.”
“Good. Because I'd rather die than give you that satisfaction.”
After she leaves for good, I stand in the kitchen, replaying every word and every touch. I let out a deep sigh. She's right to call it control. That's exactly what it is.
Every day, I push her toward a choice that'll destroy her family.
But fuck me, because I'm starting to care more about keeping her than completing this damn mission.
Which makes me the most dangerous kind of man, because choosing her puts everyone at risk.