Carina doesn’t belong in this lawless world. It’s too malignant for an innocent like her. That’s why my temporary arrangement would work well for the both of us. Four days together and then all this emotional deception would be a distant memory.
Interlinking our fingers, I lead her along the pathway, through the gap in the glass door and up the stairs to my suite. Neither of us speaks. She trembles from shock and I’m lost in thought, mulling over all the painful ways I could have slaughtered that bastard for hurting my woman.
As my bare feet hit the floor sized rug in my room, I let go of her hand and lock the door behind us. The resounding click echoes through the room.
Unwilling to look at me, her tear clumped lashes stay closed. Her eyes are fixed to her toes and her forearms rest beneath her ribs in a self-hug. The ripped neck hole of the t-shirt she took from my closet reveals just enough flesh to offer a glimpse of cleavage. Every scrap of pride she once projected is hidden behind vulnerability.
She hurries to the adjoining bathroom and slams the door shut. It would be sensible of me to leave her alone for a while. Unfortunately for Carina, after what just happened, I can’t do that.
I march to the door and throw it open. She’s standing by the vanity with her back to me. My eyes settle on her reflection, watching as she carefully dabs the cut at her hairline.
“Stop.” I instruct, coming up behind her, painfully aware of the bloodied toilet paper scrunched up on the countertop.
She freezes. Her lashes bat wildly when she pinpoints my gaze in the mirror. I drop to my haunches and search inside the low level cupboard for medical supplies. It’s not unusual for me to have surgical tape and sutures close at hand. Sometimes I encounter scrapes, braised knuckles, or worse after a night of dirty dealings.
Unpacking a pair of latex gloves, I cover my hands and straighten. When I press an antiseptic wipe to her wound, I expect her to flinch. She doesn’t.
“Why were you outside in the middle of the night?” I ask, following a slow sigh. She doesn’t move an inch, except for her pupils. They rapidly expand as I lean closer to inspect the damage. “Tell me what you were really doing.”
I watch her take a steady, deep breath before she answers, “I was looking for a phone, or a way to contact my brother. Your office was locked. I went outside to climb through the window if it was open.” Her voice holds a sexy rasp of tiredness. “He messages me to check in.” Her eyes search mine. There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that she’s being honest. “If he doesn’t get a reply, he’ll worry. I put him through enough when I was kidnapped...” Her sentence trails off, both of us knowing how that ended.
When I’m certain the bleeding has eased, I toss everything in the trash, followed by the gloves. My hands are free of blood and my mind is clear from flashbacks.
I gather her hand in mine and usher her out of the bathroom. Nearing the bed, I whirl her around to face me, seize the hem of the t-shirt and drag it up and over her head.
She holds my gaze, her nipples hard and provoking. Yet her skin doesn’t run cold, it blazes with warmth. Behind her reticence, I sense red-hot flames. Not disgust or fear. Only crackling lust.
Suspicion glitters in her eyes. “What are you going to do with me?”
My mind spins. In different circumstances, I would chuck her on the bed and spread her legs wide. I’d bury my face in her exotic essence and make her eat my dick until she gags. However, tonight I’m war-torn and she’s as delicate as an icicle in the midday sun.
“Nothing.” A slight smile creeps over my face. “Get into bed,” I murmur, putting streaming moonlight between us when I walk away, round the frame, pull back the fresh bed linen, and climb in.
Her brow creases as she hesitates, taken aback by my hands off approach. After a heartbeat of silent consideration, she concedes by slipping under the sheets and lying perfectly still.
The heat of her body next to mine proves hard to resist. Luckily for her, my willpower is as solid as the agreement I’ll forge with her. Our little understanding will ensure her life is simple after we part ways. The financial reward is a parting gift. Absolution. Payment to highlight this entanglement isn’t anything more than a business transaction.
Until we’ve cut a deal, I won’t muddy the terms, even if it feels wrong to crave more of our anarchic connection.
“You’re not going to punish me?” she asks incredulously, turning her head to look at me.
“Do you want me to?”
“No.”
“Liar.” I chuckle with an odd hint of disappointment. “When you’ve agreed to stay, then I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll forget what freedom ever felt like.”
She rolls her eyes. “Why do you need me to agree? It didn't stop you fucking me in the shower.”
My hand is around her neck before I exhale. Not stealing a kiss from her glistening, parted lips tests my theory of this being temporary. I want to devour the glistening landscape of her pink flesh and stick my tongue down her goddamn throat.
“It’s a clean-cut formality. I like my instructions to be clearly understood. For my expectations to be met. Once you leave my employment, I’ll need an assurance that you won't run your mouth off. If the wrong people figure out you’ve got Souza intel, even about the size of my dick, they’ll pull out all of your teeth, one by one, until they get what they want.
Snitches are disposable after they bleed information. If my enemies don’t finish the job, my men will.” She narrows her eyes at me, almost daring me to hurt her. “And then they’ll go after your family. Starting with your parents in Manaus.”
She easily swallows against my palm, her breathing unrestricted. “What if I refuse to be your whore?”
I rub my thumb over her soft lips. “You’re a good girl begging to be bad. That doesn’t make you a whore.” My dick jerks awake. “If I wanted aputa, I’d have three at a time, all lined up, begging for my dick to destroy them. Instead, I choose you.” I witness her quick intake of air. “You’ll agree to it.”