Page 52 of The Vow

“I don’t need all the pieces to see how it’s going to end,” I said and stood.

“Or maybe you just don’t want them.” Pat looked up, his hard-set expression not even cracking under my irritation.

“Maybe I don’t,” I volleyed back and then changed course; if he was being this forthcoming, I might as well take advantage of it. “What time are we meeting with Belmont tomorrow?”

I’d heard what Belmont’s man had said to Damon, but it wasn’t specific. Was Damon to show up whenever it was convenient? I doubted it. More likely, Belmont had provided further communication with the details of the meeting, and I had yet to know about it.

“Afternoon.” Pat’s gaze dipped to the puzzle and then rose again at the smooth-as-whiskey answer that infiltrated from the other side of the room.

“Meeting’s set for four,” Damon drawled.

Heat tumbled along my back like a warm Slinky down my spine. Rolling my shoulders back, I turned as Damon strodeinto the room. Even bare-chested with a pool towel cinched low on his waist, water still dripping from the loose ends of his hair, he looked distinguished and utterly gorgeous.

God, this would be so much easier if I weren’t still so attracted to him. Even when he was ruthless. Even when he was calculating. Even when he reminded me of all the reasons I should keep my distance, I still never wanted to look away from him.

“Puzzle is coming together good,” Damon remarked, his shoulder brushing mine as he stopped beside me.

“Don’t touch it,” Pat grunted.

“I didn’t.” Damon lifted his hands, his palms flat in mock surrender. “I was just looking? Am I not allowed to look?”

Pat’s jaw twitched. “Sometimes your looks are dangerous.”

I shivered as Damon’s shoulder bumped mine.Pat had no idea.

Abruptly, the bodyguard rose and rubbed the back of his neck. “All right, I’m heading in for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

My jaw went slack. I scrambled to think of something to ask—some reason to stop him or call him back, but once more, his presence dissolved like sand from the room, leaving Damon and me alone.

Bastard.

“I’m heading to bed, too,” I clipped and walked around the other side of the chair, using it as a barrier as I tried to flee.

Triedbeing the operative word.

A warm grip closed over my bare arm. “Robber, wait.”

He stepped closer, and I gravitated toward the warmth of his bare chest.

“Let me go,” I warned low.

“Never,” he threatened even lower, the smooth magnetism of his voice made my resistance start to fade.

If I gave in…the complete loss of control…the feral passion promised by that kiss…it would be my undoing.

“Robber…”

Again, I trembled as his other hand lifted to trace my cheek. “Don’t be mad at me,” he begged and then promised, “Let me make you not mad at me.”

“It’s not possible,” I lied through my teeth. Lied to him.Lied to myself.

Damon dropped his head, the orbit of his mouth dangerously close to mine, and the gravity of attraction became too strong to break.

His lips slanted over mine, and God help me, I sagged into the conquering of his kiss. In two days, I’d starved more for the taste of him again than it felt like I had in the last almost two decades. With a soft whimper, I tipped forward and reached for his chest.

Damon stilled when my palm pressed to his pec, the warm muscle trembling under my touch. My mouth parted, and his tongue delved inside. He stroked deep from the get-go. Seeking. Demanding.Hunting.And when his tongue finally tangled with mine, I almost fell into him the way my knees went weak.

With a deep groan, his body gave a sudden flex, sinewed muscle rolling against me, letting me feel the length of him straining against the towel.

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