Page 33 of Betrothed
I raced down the stairs, jumping from one landing over the railing to two steps below. It didn’t take long for her to realize I was hot on her heels.
“Vivian,” I said loudly enough the syllables echoed against the stark walls. Rainwater that had collected in my hair outside rolled down my face, drops getting in my eyes that I wiped furiously.
She stopped moving, swinging her gaze to mine at the sound.
There it was again, a connection with enough electricity I sucked in my breath. We were only twelve steps from each other, close enough I could see the pulse in her neck thumping rapidly.
Her lower lip was quivering, swollen as if she’d bitten down on the tender flesh to keep from screaming. With a slight shake of her head, she reached for the door.
I had no recourse, jumping down the entire set of stairs, using the railing to keep me from plunging to the next floor. With a brutal yank, I threw her against the wall, wrapping my hand around her throat.
“No!” she wailed, the sound cut off.
There was fear in her eyes, but more than the stark intensity of terror was anger. I crowded closer, noticing her eyes fell to my injury. The slight register was only with a hitch in her breathing.
I kept my hold firm, enough that she threw her fist against my chest. “Let… me go.” Her voice was defiant; I was shocked she was holding her own after what she’d experienced. Only then did she realize she was holding a weapon, yet I anticipated her move, fisting her small hand over the gun.
“I don’t think you want to do that, Vivian.”
“What if I do?”
“Then we wouldn’t be allowed the opportunity of spending additional time together. Now, would we?”
Her entire face was pinched and I could clearly see the wheels turning in her big brain. “What do you want?”
While I really didn’t have the luxury of taking the time to remind myself of all the feel-goods I’d experienced in spending time with her, as I crowded her space, the jolt of electricity was too good to pass up. Lowering my head, I slipped my thumb under her chin, forcefully lifting her head until our lips were almost touching. “What would you say if I told you… everything.”
She hadn’t been prepared for the kiss, her body stiffening as I captured her mouth. In just holding her wet lips against mine, the reminder was as sweet as before, perhaps bittersweet given where we were standing.
I’d never been the kind of man to ignore an opportunity, especially one so delicious. She fought me at first, continually shoving her fist into my chest until she was lightly pounding. With her fingers tight around the weapon, she wasn’t eager to give me any control.
But she had no choice.
I pressed her lips open and the moment I slipped my tongue inside her mouth, she surrendered enough so I could remove the gun. After sliding it into the pocket of my jacket, I placed my hand on the wall beside her head.
She wound her fist around my shirt, pulling herself away from the wall as the kiss became a deeper reminder of how hot we’d been together. The fantasy of being able to taste her again had been effective in keeping me awake. Had I known we’d run into each other again and the reason why, I might have insisted she travel with me to the hotel.
At least I would have the joy of rediscovering every inch, not only of her body but of her obviously devious mind. As she yielded to the kiss, her tongue tentatively arguing with mine, I felt a sense of protectiveness over her. That was highly unusual, very unwanted, and nothing that could last.
When I pulled our lips free, we were both breathing hard, both from exertion and excitement. She kept her long fingers grasping my shirt while she darted the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, catching the kiss.
“Now, I need you to be a good girl and remain silent. Can you do that?” She wasn’t inclined to answer until I squeezed her long neck. The pressure caused such clear defiance to rush into her eyes that I could consider myself smitten.
“Yes. Fine.”
“Good. Now that we have that settled.” I had to think about what the hell I was going to do next. My best option was to get out of here. There was no way of knowing if I’d allowed myself to be lured into a hotbed of assassins. While I doubted that was the case, the mess created would soon be covered on the morning news.
That wasn’t good for the sterling reputation of Chateau Elegance. Yet when I struggled to pull out my phone, the pressure that erupted in anguish and the ugly haze forming in front of my eyes were reminders that the cut wasn’t superficial.
“You’re hurt,” she stated as if I might not know that.
“Just a nick.”
“I doubt it. That looks serious.”
“Are you hopeful it is?”
Her expression was flat. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
