Page 89 of Mercenary
She stands her ground, shoulders straight and eyes wide open.
“Don’t.” Don’t ask me to say it. It’ll only bring you hurt. I still have a goddamn job to do. I’m giving your sister one chance to escape. Fulfill the promise I made to Jaxson, and now to you.
Stepping closer, she places her hand on my chest. “I forgive you.”
Well, fucking bam. I close my eyes. Feel my heart thumping erratically like it’s trying to escape my chest.
“This once, I’ll forgive you. But if you threaten my sister again, I’ll hate you forever.”
27
Declan
Isurge to my feet, and she steps backward. I ignore her surprise, ignore the way my heart hangs heavy in my chest, and move around her, stalking over to the kitchen counter to retrieve the jar I left there. Opening the lid, I toss it on the countertop. And as I return to stand in front of her, I dip my finger down into the jar before leaning in to set it on the table behind her with the other . “Undress for me.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“I want to taste you.”
She hesitates. So distrusting. So conflicted. I did this to her. I watch her bite her lip, weighing my words. I want to tell her to jump, to strip, and get the fuck up on the table. To obey, like she promised she would. Yet deep down, I won’t be satisfied if she doesn’t take the first step. But will she, now that she better understands what I am? What I do for a living? What . . . I’ve done?
Gently, I take her by the arm and tug her in closer. “I’m going to lick your lips. Lick your breasts. Lick every inch of you. And then I’m going to give you a fucking you’ll never forget.”
“I shouldn’t want this,” she whispers in a hoarse voice.
“No. And I should leave you alone. But I . . . can’t.”
I wait for her to give me the smallest sign that she willing. That she wants this so goddamn bad, she’ll forget who I am and what I’ve done. She’ll forget not to trust me.
“Declan,” she murmurs.
No. Her answer’s no. She might have forgiven me but she doesn’t want me. I drop her arm and bring my finger to my lip.
She moves quickly, snatching my wrist with both her hands and stopping me from removing the smudge of peanut butter off my fingertip with my mouth. Using her weight, she tugs my hand lower.
And I nearly lose my mind when she wraps her lips around my finger, deep enough where I feel the tight suction of her mouth on my knuckle, and slowly, so goddamn slowly, pulls my wrist backward while her lips slide along the length of my finger, until she sucks the peanut butter clear off to the tip.
“Madelyn.”
Stepping back, she begins to unbutton her shirt. I’m helpless to do anything but watch. She wiggles out of her shorts and they fall to her feet.
I struggle to remain calm as I catch sight of her frilly white lace bra and matching panties. Proof of how fucking innocent she is. How goddamned beautiful. How she’s mine for the taking.
Someone to make mine.
“Tell me what you want.”
If that isn’t the question of the century. It takes all my power not to answer her. I’m fighting a foreign war, with emotions sabotaging my judgment. Intimacy. Is that what she wants? One of two words long absent from my vocabulary. Yeah, the other I won’t even let myself contemplate.
Jesus. Enough talk. Enough with these fucked-up thoughts.
I hoist her up by the hips and set her down onto the kitchen table. The plate rattles, the sound blending with her gasp of surprise. I snatch up the jar of peanut butter. “Hold this,” I gruffly order.
With shaky hands, she takes the jar from me.
I dip my finger back inside, coat it, and offer it to her. “Suck.”
She opens her mouth and I feed her my finger. Her eyes meet mine as her lips tighten over my digit and, with a loud pop, she sucks my finger clean. Never have I witnessed something so erotic. Coming from a woman whose only been fucked by one man—me.
