Page 39 of Scarred Ruin

Maxsim

Isabel was the most annoyingly combative woman I’d ever met.

Hands down.

Dinner, while pleasant to some degree, had been a tennis match, one volley after another with her keeping score. When she’d believed a point had been won, I’d been rewarded with a smile, seductive in nature, which my cock had immediately responded to.

When doubt had appeared in her vivid green eyes, I sensed she was certain I’d cheated to win the match. Given we were talking word volley, cheating meant I hadn’t told her the truth about whatever pointed question she’d asked.

While she hadn’t inquired directly whether I killed people for a living, she’d come dangerously close. She had cornered me on what I’d do if and when I found the people involved in both near tragedies.

I wasn’t used to skirting around an issue, but that’s what I’d done by telling her I would find them no matter how long it took or what resources would be needed. I’d neglected to share with her that at this point, I considered her someone of questionable integrity.

A laugh almost surfaced from the ridiculous statement. No matter the level of attraction or how much my dick ached when being near her, she was still someone I couldn’t trust. Throughout the remainder of the evening, I would ascertain whether she had a hidden agenda.

If she did?

Well, she wouldn’t like the outcome.

Isabel was certainly cautious even though our conversations had appeared open. As if she’d been trained in the art of deception. What annoyed the fuck out of me was that she’d turned the tables in asking the questions several times.

And there’d been a solid three dozen interrogation-style questions, enough so even now I felt a sense of whiplash. While I certainly had known better than to expect anything but cunning intelligence, I was also used to spending time with women whose interests bored the hell out of me.

She could converse with knowledge about almost anything, including the boat she’d stepped foot on.

When I’d needed to fuck, I’d allowed myself to become entangled with women who knew better than to challenge me.

Not so with Isabel.

Yet as infuriating as she could be, she was also the most beautiful woman I’d laid eyes on in years. If not forever.

Which was why I’d grown weary of keeping my distance and being forced to surrender to her desire to assert her authority.

Having her in my arms, my hunger exploded. My dick was already aching to the point of pain, another feeling I wasn’t used to experiencing.

Every sound she made created another wave of longing.

She fit perfectly in my hold, so much so every muscle in my body had already tensed in delicious anticipation.

Being around her was a sweet kiss of kryptonite.

Why not indulge? I was a big boy.

We were adults.

And more important, she needed to completely understand that I was in charge. Not only of the program.

I wasn’t a hungry boy in need of satisfaction, but a man with more dire, possessive needs few could fulfill.

Damn the woman for driving me to this point. I’d been fully intending on keeping the very professional distance she’d insisted on. After tonight and the time spent, I knew that wasn’t possible.

I’d all but decided my men were right in steering me toward keeping her at arm’s length. Yet when I’d walked into her office, noticing the explosive fire in her eyes, I’d made it my business to drive her into my arms.

Although she’d call this forcing her to surrender.

I swept my tongue inside, savoring the lingering taste of Mexican beer. It felt good to have her in my arms after wanting to drag her over the table every minute during dinner. More accurately put, I’d thought about raking my arm across the table more than once, ripping off her clothes and fucking her in front of both tourists and locals alike.

Yes, quite Neanderthal of me and I realized my barbaric behavior had likely been dragged to the surface because of her refusal to back down from me on any subject.