Page 29 of The Count
I always keep my word.
My earlier protestations flashed in my head, and I only had one place I could go. I crossed a dimly lit street toward brighter city light. At the first gas station, I found I called a taxi and all too easily directed it to Will’s lair.
The doorman greeted me, but I thought I saw him grab his phone as the elevator whooshed shut between us. The ding of each floor punched me in the chest. Would he be there when I reached the top floor, or would I have to sit and wait for his return? Whatever the outcome, I needed out of this dress.
The elevator opened and I stepped out slowly looking carefully around. But he wasn’t here. The silence weighed against my skin, and I crossed the sitting room to my bedroom. I peeled the dress off and left it in a heap by the bed. Next, my shoes. Favorite or not, all the walking caused blisters to form above my heels. I prodded the skin but decided to leave it alone since I didn’t have any bandages and first aid wasn’t going to be at the top of Will’s to-do list when he returned.
Speak of the devil. His heavy footfall alerted me to his presence. I’d finished removing my slip and stood in the middle of my room in nothing but my black lace panties. His chest heaved like he’d just run ten miles. I waited for the yelling, shouting, cursing, anything, but he just stood there staring at me.
“What?” I broke the silence, it was fucking kill me waiting for him to do it.
His fists clenched near his thighs. “What? That’s all you have to say to me. Where the hell did you? What the hell happened back there, and where the fuck did ‘I keep my word’ go?”
I turned, and looked around the room. He was right. I’d run before I thought things through. Now I’d pay the consequences. “I’m sorry.” I said.
“What did you say?” Closer to me now.
I faced him. “I’m sorry. I have no excuse. I got spooked and ran. Once I slowed down I reconsidered. I’m saying sorry.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Is this some kind of mind game?”
What the hell did he want from me. I held my arms open. Being half naked, I was already at a disadvantage. “No. It’s a genuine apology. We agreed to work together. I intend to honor that agreement.”
His fists were clenched, his jaw, every part of him wound tight. He took a step toward me, and I held my ground.
His voice pitched low now. I couldn’t tell if he tried to contain rage or keep from screaming. “You intend to honor that agreement….” He parried.
Obviously, he wanted a fight. I crossed my arms over my breast tucking my hands under my arms. “If we are going to fight, can I at least get dressed?”
“No, not if it will keep you from lying to me.”
His face softened a little, but his hands remained clenched. “Put on some clothes and meet me in my room.”
He walked out loosening his bowtie. I felt the battle was won, but it was only a preview to the war about to take place in his bedroom.
I slid into some yoga pants and a cami. With circulation restored to my feet, they ached. I limped into his room as he finished removing his pants. The polite thing to do would be walk out and wait, but he had zero regard for my personal space, even nude, so I propped on the door frame and watched.
He was a sight, all those tattoos and bunched muscles rippling as he kicked his clothing away. “Come here,” he motioned to the bed.
Hoping to buy some good will, I sat on the rumpled coverlet shoved at the end of the mattress.
Still just in his black boxer briefs, he sat beside me. “You returned. So I’m going to pretend this whole thing never happened.” He shifted and captured my chin in his fingers. “But if you pull something like that again before I release you, there won’t be another chance.”
I jerked from his grip. “Fine. Anything else?”
“Yes,” he stood, pushed me flat on my back, and stole the space between my parted thighs. “Now we’re going to finish what we started earlier.”
His knuckled brushed my knees as he removed his underwear. Once upright again, his erection caught my attention. It stood straight and proud against his belly.
My mouth watered, and angry at him or not, I wanted him. I reached out and he kneed my thighs apart so he could climb onto the bed between them.
Where had this creature of need and desire come from? This hunger consumed me from the inside, and it wouldn’t be ignored. Where had this woman come from?
My body rioted for his touch, and as if he knew it, the bastard took his time about exploring the skin of my outer thighs, my knees, my calves.
“Would you get on with it already?”
The man actually slowed the already glacial trek of his fingers. “One might think you actually want me.”
