Page 37 of Deep (Chicago Underground 8)
I blinked in surprise—and maybe a little annoyance. “Do you always speak to him that way?”
“I was speaking to you.”
Anger rose up in full force, but before I could say a word, Philip was out of his seat. I stood to counter him, unwilling to back down. He kept coming at me, undeterred. My body ended up flush against the wall. He stood close enough that his broad chest filled my vision. I had to look up to meet his gaze.
His expression didn’t mirror mine—no anger, no helplessness. Only hunger.
“You have no right,” I said through clenched teeth.
“I have every right.” His thumb brushed my lip. “This mouth. This body. It’s mine. I’m the only man who can touch it, who can fuck it.”
I flinched. “You’re a bastard.”
That earned me a low chuckle. “I’m a bastard because I take
what I want. Because I keep what’s mine. Did you imagine it would be any different when it came to you?”
I opened my mouth to respond, even though I didn’t know what I would say. Whatever it was, it would be scathing. It would condemn him. And then his lips brushed over mine, and it was too late.
Time’s up. That was what he’d said in the car. It was what he said now, but not with words. With the achingly soft caress of his lips, the inexorable demand of his tongue. He wanted inside my mouth. He wanted inside my body.
I pressed my lips together, stubborn and resistant—like a child holding her breath to get her way.
It was his hands that convinced me, the way they gripped my hips. There was so much knowledge in that grip, as if they would hold me the same way when he was buried inside me. It undid me. I was no longer a stubborn child, but a woman—and my lips parted on a sigh of surrender.
He took every advantage, pushing my mouth open so there was nothing I could do but submit to him. His exploration was both thorough and sensual. There was an animal grace to the flick of his tongue, to the power of his body. It didn’t feel like payment for him helping my brother. It didn’t feel like a question either. It felt like he was taking something from me—and the base part of me gave in without a fight.
Firm hands pulled my hips flush against him. I could feel the ridge of his erection, and he ground me on it—not moving his body against mine, but instead mine against his, using me to give himself friction. Heat bloomed between my legs, my secret spaces desperate for that same motion deep inside me.
When he pulled back, I was panting and flushed. I bit my lip to keep from begging for more.
His cheeks were dark, eyes like onyx.
The moment was charged with desire, with danger. My heart knocked against my ribs, and I waited for him to tell me what that was. To tell me what he wanted. I waited for him, the way he had waited for me all these years.
His gaze sharpened, and I thought he might say something important. Something personal. Then a steel gate slammed down on his expression, leaving the cold, detached man in his place. This man might not have been kissing me just seconds ago. This man didn’t feel a thing.
“Consider that your down payment,” he said.
Chapter Twenty
I DREAMED OF Philip that night, of his large body looming over mine, of his murmured promise. Consider that your down payment. I wanted to hate him for that. It was cruel to make me pay with sex while my brother’s life was on the line.
He may as well have put a gun to my head.
A man of opportunity.
I didn’t see him the next morning—not over coffee with Adrian or in any of the rooms when I went searching. It was as if he’d left the house. I hoped that wasn’t the case. I needed him.
And I supposed there was one upside to my down payment. It meant we had sealed our agreement. And Philip may be a lot of things, but he didn’t strike me as the kind of man who would back out on a deal.
By midafternoon I was determined to find him. Adrian bustled around the kitchen wearing a paisley apron of navy blue and maroon. The spice of chili filled the air. My stomach grumbled.
Adrian glanced over, grinning. “Grab a bowl.”
“I’m looking for Philip. Do you know where he is?”
That earned me a silent laugh. “I was wondering how long it would take you to ask.”
