Page 21 of Toxic Temptation
My pulse trips over itself. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I should have killed you three hours ago, and instead, I’m sitting here wondering what you taste like.”
Heat floods my body, gathering low in my belly. I’ve never had a man look at me the way Kovan is looking at me right now.
“That’s…” I clear my throat. “That’s inappropriate.” I pick up my wine with shaking hands and drain the glass. The alcohol burns,but not as much as the way he’s watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do next. “I should go. Yeah. I should… I should leave. This is… Whatever this is, it’s not smart.”
He nods regretfully. “Almost certainly not.”
“You’re a criminal.”
“Yes.”
“I’m a doctor.”
“I noticed.”
“We live in completely different worlds.”
“We do.”
“So this can’t happen.”
“What can’t happen?”
I gesture helplessly between us. “This. Whatever this is.”
He leans forward, close enough that I can smell his cologne—something dark and alluring that makes me want to bury my face in his neck. He looks at me, and for as long as that look lasts, my brain goes absolutely haywire. More wild and reckless than it has been all night.
It’s thewhy notsturned up to a billion.
Why notlet him kiss me?
Why nottake him home?
Why notask him to take off this black dress I never asked for and never wanted, and put those big hands on my waist, and look down at me with those green eyes while he pins me to thenearest mattress or table or unoccupied flat surface, and growl the kinds of filthy things that no one has growled to me in a long, long time?
For as long as that look lasts, I’m wondering if he’s wondering the same things as me. If he’s asking himself the samewhy nots.
Then he says, “This, Dr. Fairfax, is nothing. I’m not here. Neither are you. And nothing happened today.”
He rises, towering overhead, and reaches into his pocket. I’m paralyzed for a second, expecting to see the gun make a surprise reappearance.
It’s only cash, though. More of that “dirty mob money.” He drops a stack of the stuff on the table without bothering to count it. Far too much, probably enough to pay for everyone’s meal in the restaurant.
“You’ve never seen me,” he continues, “and I’ve never seen you, and if the unfortunate day should ever come when we cross paths on the street, you will look past me as if I don’t exist and keep right on walking. And I will do the same to you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I say nothing. My voice is a prisoner in my throat.
Kovan’s hand floats up to cradle my jaw, thumb pressing just hard enough against my throat to feel my pulse racing. It’s burning hot to the touch.
“What happened today will disappear from your pretty little head—and it will never, ever leave your pretty little lips. Not the Keres, not my name, not Luka. Nothing.” His lips are inches from mine. “Because if it does, I’ll know. And I’ll come back foryou. So I’ll ask you this one more time: Do you understand what I’m telling you, Vesper?”
At last, I find my voice. A tiny fraction of it, at least. I nod and croak in a pitiful, broken whisper, “I understand.”
He nods back. “Good. Pleasure having dinner with you, Doctor.”
Then Kovan walks out of my life.
