“It’s happening.”
His voice was low. A caress. The sound stroked over her skin like a velvet rub. She resisted the urge to squirm—to rub her thighs together. To scratch the itch that was beginning to throb between her legs. It was the best morning she’d ever had.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because I want you with every breath I take, and I always get what I want.”
That was beautiful. Perfect. So what she needed to hear. She sighed with regret. “Not this time. I absolutely am not going to risk going to bed with you. You’re not a man who has relationships. You’re the kind of man who leaves. Fast. Do you even bother to buy a woman a meal, before or after?”
Keeping his eyes on hers, he shook his head slowly. A shiver of desire spiraled through her body. Why did she find him so sexy? Why was she so turned on, craving him like the worst possible drug?
“So, we’re going to have sex, you’re going to leave and I can get on with my life?” There was far too much speculation in her voice, because she might be able to handle that.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, say it,” she challenged him. Maybe she was challenging herself. Would she take the chance? She didn’t have an answer for that yet.
He took another sip of coffee and then set the mug on the table. He leaned back in his chair, sprawling out, long legs spread out in front of him. He looked lazy and yet in complete control. Bastard. She was a mess. The least he could do was be a mess as well.
“I don’t tell lies the way you do, Ashe, especially to myself. Finish your breakfast. I’ve got to get you to work so I can get to work.”
She’d forgotten all about work, she was so wrapped up in him. She glanced at her watch, only to find her wrist was bare. She was barefoot as well. “What time is it?” She looked around the room to find the clock on the wall. “Already? I’m going to be late.” She leapt up and ran for the bedroom—and for safety.
He knew she was lying. Of course, he knew. He was leopard. Her father had cautioned her that leopards heard lies. He’d coached her from the time she was a toddler in how to word sentences to minimize the risk. The more truth mixed in with the lie, the more it sounded like truth. He made her practice all the time. They’d lived off the grid, but they’d had a few friends, others who, like them, for whatever reason, lived a life away from society.
They’d gone without television, but he’d insisted on computers and all the modern technology. The very latest. Her father consumed newspapers, online and in every other form that he could get. Her mother helped him gather news and they would talk endlessly about it at every meal. Her father taught her how to fight, how to shoot, how to survive out in the wilderness. She could build her own gas mask a number of ways in just under fifteen minutes. He’d prepared her, telling her the day would come—and it had, she just hadn’t been as prepared as her parents had thought she would be.
She had to leave. There was no other possible way to salvage this mess. She had to lead the enemy away from Evangeline—and Timur. He would try to protect her, but he couldn’t possibly protect her, Evangeline and Fyodor. Everyone would lose. She had to come up with another way. Maybe she could casually ask Evangeline who the worst criminal she knew was. Someone deserving of death. Someone strong enough to kill her enemy. Someone not Timur.
She pulled on her shoes, braided her hair and hurried into the foyer where she kept her car keys. Timur stood there, her keys dangling from his fingers. “You’re riding with me.” He closed his hand around the keys and slid them into his pocket.
“I might need to go somewhere.” Like out of town. Far away. Her plan had gone to hell faster than she believed possible. It was like being on a runaway train. All because Evangeline was still that truly beautiful, compassionate person she remembered.
“I’ll make sure you get to wherever it is you need to go. If no one else can take you, I will.”
“That sounds more like a threat.”
“You have a very good ear. Get in the fuckin’ car, Ashe, and stop plotting. Whatever you planned to do isn’t happening. I don’t have the patience my brother does for bullshit, so if you’re going to keep lying and keep plotting, do it when you’re talking to him.”
She glared at him, hands on her hips. “No one is asking you for your opinion—.” She was cut off when he did that thing again, putting his shoulder to her belly and lifting. She found herself dangling upside down over his shoulder. This time he held her one-handed—the other came out with a gun.