Page 27 of Shadow Hunter

He turned his head, their lips brushing for only a moment. “Then that’s exactly why I should take you home.”

They stayed like that for a long beat, neither of them willing to be the first to close the gap.

Tiffany nodded then, her understanding clear as she leaned back in her seat, her eyes filled with disappointment, but still, she said, “Cut the bullshit and drive, Damon.”

He nodded. Whatever had passed between them they were leaving it here.

It was better this way. Or so he’d keep telling himself.

Maybe if he did, he’d start to believe it somewhere between their destination and here.

“This is your apartment?”

The door behind them had already swung closed, leaving them painfully alone.

And with his bed far too near, at least for his cock’s sake.

But it was one night. What harm could it do?

He could keep his hands to himself for one goddamn night. He wasn’t a monster.

Tiffany followed him into the two-story loft, her eyes growing wide as she took in the twenty-five-foot-high ceiling along with the iron staircase leading up to his second-floor bedroom. “Impressive.” She walked to the skyline window and studied the night-time lights of the city. “It’s…bigger than I anticipated. Roomier.”

“What did you expect?” he asked, more than a little curious to hear her answer.

Since the moment they’d arrived here and he’d parked the Monte Carlo in the apartment complex’s garage, he’d tried hard not to think about the conversation they’d had on the way over.But he was failing miserably. Her sharp whispered words still thrilled him.

What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?

The question had been enough to make his cock throb.

It wasn’t exactly verbal confirmation, but the desire in her eyes had been clear.

She wanted him. Maybe as badly as he wanted her.

So, what the hell were they doing here? Both of them pretending otherwise…

And for what? Mark’s memory?

“I guess I just expected something a little more…rough around the edges that’s all.” Her gaze swept over him, indicating exactly why she’d gotten that idea.

He huffed in amusement, drawing the Desert Eagle from his coat and placing it on the counter. The large silver gun thunked as it hit the countertop. Rough around the edges, huh? Try jagged on every corner. Though he was softer whenever she was near. No surprise there.

He was crazy about her. It wasn’t hard to see it.

Though she seemed to have chalked his attention up to some instantaneous lust.

He watched as she ran her hand over the banister of the staircase, the nearby sounds of the city breaking the silence between them. In the distance, the shrill siren of a police car drew near.

“If you’re a member of the Execution Underground, what are you doing in Rochester?” she asked suddenly.

Damon froze for a moment, then forced himself to relax. If he kept his back to her, maybe he could manage to speak evenly. He still wasn’t exactly prepared to reveal who he really was, and if she knew he was responsible for her brother’s death, she’d never trust him. Sure, there were other reasons for hunting Caius, but he knew how sharp Tiffany was. He’d need a damngood excuse to make her think he had absolutely no connection to her brother, beyond a simple acquaintance, much less any knowledge of his death.

Keeping his mouth shut was the best option.

He still hadn’t given up complete hope on keeping her safe, not entirely.

He walked to the refrigerator and pretended to search for something to drink. “Who said I was a member of anything?” He grabbed a bottle of water and closed the fridge. After chugging down the water in a few quick swigs, he turned to her again.

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