I collide with his chest as he tugs me forward by framing my face with his hands. I’m still recovering from the shock when his mouth crashes down on mine.
I feel his desperation radiate through his palms clasped on either side of my head. He kisses me, hungry but tender, coaxing my mouth open with a gentle tongue. I wind my arms around his neck, the feeling natural and necessary, like breathing. My soft breasts are pressed against his hard chest as he lowers a hand to brace my hip and hold me tighter.
I yelp softly when he pulls my hair to tilt my head back. His chest rises and falls in time with my heartbeat. “She would have loved you,” he whispers, pain evident in his voice. I don’t have to ask who he’s talking about. I recognize that pain like it’s my own.
“When did she die?”
His grip tangled in my hair loosens and he massages the nape of my neck. “Nearly fifteen years ago—” He ends his sentence abruptly, but his lips hover open like he isn’t done speaking. I mirror his movements by gently rubbing the back of his neck, waiting. “She had a target on her back too.”
He swallows and refuses to meet my eyes when I ask, “She was killed?” He doesn’t need to answer me verbally for me to understand… “The Bratva are just the beginning, aren’t they? As long as I’m with you, I’m going to be in danger.”
“No.”He wrenches his head up and repeats, “No.”
“But—”
“I’m a selfish bastard,a chuisle. I’m keeping you. And if I’m never letting you go, I’m never letting anyone take you from me either.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until his inked hand wipes the tear from my cheek. The image of a fox that used to haunt my nights is now drying my tears. I squeeze my eyes shut and lean into this palm, letting myself just feel for once.
I strip back my very real fears and all the logic that screams at me to run. I strip it all back until all I can feel is the warmth of his palm and the tugging in my chest tethering me to him. I feel my lungs inflate and my chest press against his, hard and hot. Keeping my eyes closed, I tilt my face up, inviting his kiss.
His lips meet mine again in a testing brush. “You’re in my fucking veins, Harlow.” This time when he says my name, it’s a crescendo of hurt and lust and desire and sacrifice. And I want to drown in it.
“Why haven’t you fucked me yet?” I whisper against his mouth, and he shudders, his teeth biting into his lip. His grip on my hip turns bruising, and I half expect him to rip off my pajama shorts and bend me over the bed. He’s threatened to do as much many times, and yet, here we are.
“Because there’s no going back after that. Once I have you that way, no other man ever will. You’re mine,a chuisle.I’ve accepted that I belong to you, but I’m not crossing that line until you’ve accepted that you belong to me too.” He traces the shell of my ear with a light finger, and my breathing wavers. “Once I truly make that perfect pussy mine, I’d tie you to the bed if you ever tried to leave. I’d fuck you until your legs are too weak to run away. I’d burn down the city until it’s just you, me, and the ashes, so you’d have no choice but to stay.”
I consider his words, handling them delicately like the grenade they are. Only, I don’t know if the pin has already been pulled. But I do know I can’t take the impact until I’ve picked up the shrapnel the June Harbor Slayer left behind.
I slide my hands from around his neck to his chest. “I can’t make any promises to you until I’ve fulfilled my promise to her.”
“I know.” He covers my hands flat on his chest with his own. “That fucker doesn’t stand a chance.”
“What did you call him?”
“Unhung Doug.” We’re back in Cash’s stalker lair, and he’s been fussing around on the computer the past few minutes. When I told Cash my theory about Doug, he already knew who I was talking about.I guess poorly endowed men are memorable after all.
“Me and your Beth would be friends.” He laughs, but my chest squeezes. “I like her sense of humor.”
“Did you ever meet her?” I try to imagine what Beth would say to me now about Cash. Probably a warning about him being a murderous psychopath, but if he makes me happy then that’s all that matters.Delusional.Beth was a big believer in love conquers all. She loved love. Which is probably why she made such a good dancer. She adored the meeting point of sensuality and romance.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Cash shrugs without taking his eyes off the screen.
“You would have remembered her.” I laugh.
“Doubtful.” He spins in his chair to face me. “No one has ever been seared into my memory like you. Even if I never saw you again after June Bug, I would know every inch of you until the day I die.”
I curse the butterflies and blush that not-so-subtly react to his words. “Stella was right about you, you are a giant drama queen.”
He chuckles, tugging me out of my chair and into his lap. “King, baby. I’m a drama king, and you’re my queen.” He tickles my neck with his laughter as he nips my skin with his teeth.
“Anyway, meet Mr. Tiny Willie.” He spins us in the chair to show me a black-and-white still shot of a security feed on the computer.
In the picture, Beth is talking to a young, white man in a black sweatshirt, with the hood pulled off. Immediately my stomach churns, the black hoodie making me queasy.Yellow, black, red, black, black, black. I force myself to keep my eyes on the screen.
His head is buzzed short, and he looks a few years younger than us. Her arms are crossed protectively over her tiny dancing bikini. Even with her high stage shoes, he’s still a few inches taller than her.
“No, that can’t be right. Doug was an old creep. This guy is way too young.”