Tempted by a Dangerous Man (2 page)

A man was dead. This time yesterday he was alive. He had showered, eaten. Kissed his wife in the morning, maybe. Played with his daughter, if he had one. Just because he was a creep didn’t mean that there weren’t people who cared about him.
 

Maybe someone was frantically dialing through his list of friends right now, hoping to hear that he’d gotten drunk, had fallen asleep on their futon.

But I knew better.

It hit me like a train barreling into my chest. I gasped, unable to breathe. My tears mixed with the water, and I rocked myself while I shoved my fists into my eyes. “No, no, no,” I chanted, trying to break free from this nightmare.

Numbness settled in again, and the tears slowed. I slumped to the side, drained.

“Audrey?” Corbin opened the door slowly. “Baby,” he murmured when he saw me. He grabbed a towel, then stooped and wrapped me in it, pulled me to my feet. As he adjusted the towel around my torso, he avoided looking at my naked body. I wished he would do something that would give me even a flimsy pretext to yell at him to get away.

Because I needed to be alone. I didn’t want to be near anyone—not even my foul, corrupt self.

But he wouldn’t go. He turned his back while I put on clean clothes, then watched as I halfheartedly detangled my curls. When our eyes met in the mirror, he forced a smile, lips tight.
 

He led me downstairs and into the kitchen, adjusting his pace to mine. Plates and silverware waited on the table, and yellow light poured in through the windows, drenching the room in warmth. I vaguely remembered that this kitchen used to make me happy.

“Sit.” Corbin pulled out my chair. His tone didn’t invite argument, so I fell onto the seat.

I was aware of his masculinity as he slid my chair closer to the table, the strength of the muscles that bulged under his green flannel shirt, the faint smells of coffee and aftershave. But my mind wasn’t on sex. Wasn’t on food, either, and I wondered how long I would have to sit there before he would let me go without a debate.

Corbin rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows. He opened the oven and pulled out a pizza smothered in vegetables. I realized that he’d made it because he’d known he’d never get me to eat a salad in my current state. The briefest flicker of amusement skated through me, gone before I really felt it.
 

I stared at the slice he placed on my plate. It might as well have been made of plastic.
 

“Eat, or I’ll force-feed you. I can promise that it won’t be enjoyable for either of us.”
 

I picked up an olive, popped it into my mouth.
 

“After you eat, you can go back to bed.”

I grabbed a slice of pizza and nibbled at the corner. My stomach clenched painfully in anticipation, my hunger sharpening, overriding the gray bleakness. I took another bite. Then another. So
this
was how people lived with themselves after doing horrible things.

“Better than the stuff in the safe house?” Corbin asked as he slid a second slice onto my plate.

Of course it was. This was homemade, not ordered from a chain. But I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. “Yeah.”

He added a third slice. My last meal had been a PB&J for lunch the day before, I remembered. With each bite, I felt a little more in control, a tiny bit more optimistic—but still nothing like myself.

Corbin sat back in his chair, arms crossed, and watched me.
 

“What?” I mumbled as I finished the second slice.

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

I eyed him. “Stronger than
you
gave me credit for?”

“Didn’t say that.” He pushed a glass of water toward me.

I drained half of it, then… stopped. The edges of my hunger were blunted, and now the darkness descended again. I pushed away from the table and stood, the food in my belly hardening into rocks.

“Thanks for lunch,” I managed to whisper. I wanted something from him, needed it, but I knew he couldn’t save me. Despite his sometimes superhuman ability to fix things, he was only a man. He didn’t possess magic powers.

I glanced back at him just before leaving the kitchen to make sure he wasn’t coming after me. He was like a statue, arms crossed, his face unreadable, his thoughts unfathomable.

~~~

It was midnight when I woke again. Easy to know because there was now a travel-sized clock in the room, the numbers a muted yellow. So I had slept through Corbin bringing that in. I wondered where he was.

The sofa, probably. Keeping me from running away. The problem was that I could never be free of the person I really wanted to escape.

I rolled over and closed my eyes, but this time the balm of sleep proved evasive. Every cell seemed awake. Alert. Restless. Unused energy hummed through my veins. My body wanted to be replenished, to move around. And it also wanted Corbin, I slowly realized. To feel him pounding into me, his large hands gripping my hips.

But
I
wanted sleep. Needed it. Anything to avoid thinking.

My bladder won; it always did. I flung back the covers and stood, instantly going dizzy. My fingertips tapped along the metal bedside lamp for too long before finding the switch.
 

Two white pills gleamed on a plate. There was a full glass of water, too, that I could have easily knocked over.

Corbin hadn’t left the whole bottle of pills. Or blister pack, if they were packaged like that. Yet he was the one going on about trust all the time. Snorting softly, I adjusted my jeans, which had gotten bunched up in awkward places, and staggered to the bathroom.

When I returned, I sat heavily and reached for the pills. Within minutes, my eyelids turned heavy.
Good stuff
, I thought. Nothing but the best for Corbin Lagos, assassin extraordinaire.
 

I wondered how often he needed to drug himself to sleep.

~~~

A warm hand shook me. “Time to get up.” The deep voice came from close to my ear, and when he spoke again, his lips tickled over my skin. “Wake up.”

I turned over. “Tired.”

The light clicked on. “Now,” he said.

“Please. Go away, Corbin.”

“Can’t do that.”

Irritation flared. “Suit yourself.” I reached out to turn the light off, but Corbin caught my wrist and forced it to the mattress, down by my hip. I felt myself getting turned on, and I felt revolted by my inappropriate desire for him.

He leaned in close. He was shirtless and wore blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms, but his jaw was free of stubble, and I could smell that he’d had coffee. “I’m not going to let you wallow in self-pity. Twenty-four hours are enough. Any more and it becomes a crutch.”
 

“Sorry if I’m not as coolheaded a killer as you are.” I tried to shove him and ended up with my other hand restrained.

“We’re going out.”

“Fuck, Corbin. I don’t
want
to go out. Leave me alone!” My plea ended in a gasp as I ran out of oxygen.

His grip tightened on my wrists. “If you think I’m going anywhere, you don’t know me at all.”

I exhaled hard, flexed and clenched my fingers, which were beginning to tingle. “Tomorrow. I’m tired.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“I agree with that last bit.”
 

The intensity of his gaze was as effective a restraint as his weight pinning me down. “I’ll give you five minutes to dress. The clothes you need are in the bathroom.”

“Or what?”

He leaned in, and I saw that dark man, the one who terrified me. “Or I will dress you,” he said, his deep voice rumbling against my skin.

I swallowed. “I look forward to it.”

With a growl, he pulled away. He loomed a moment, staring. Was that hate in his eyes? Disgust? Something in that family for sure. Though I wasn’t sure it was directed at me.

Then he stalked to the bathroom and returned a moment later with clothes that I didn’t recognize.

He yanked away the blankets and ripped off my jeans. I had been undressed by Corbin before, sometimes roughly, sometimes gently. This was… something else. Not fun.

When he tried to put long underwear on me, I twisted away and kicked at him.
 

“No, Audrey,” he said as he trapped my ankles in his large hands. “You’ve got a choice right now, and while you’re intent on taking the fastest path to self-destruction, I’m even more determined that you make the correct choice.”

“Fuck. You.”

The rage that filled his eyes made me recoil. I didn’t believe he would hit me. Not Corbin. Assassin, yes. Calculating?
Hell
yes. But not abusive. And I didn’t think he would curse me out or scream at me. That wasn’t his way.

But I sure didn’t expect him to stand up, grab the clothes and walk out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I lay there for a few minutes, all sorts of conflicting emotions charging through me. Predominately guilt mixed with irritation. What Corbin had said was partially true—I couldn’t wallow forever—but I disagreed that one day was enough. I hadn’t accidentally trampled on someone’s flowers, for fuck’s sake.
 

My clenched hands shook in pointless rage. I didn’t want to take it out on Corbin, but, fuck! Why couldn’t he see that I needed space?
 

The door banged open, and Corbin stood there, filling the doorway with his large frame. He wore a tight black long-sleeved shirt, black synthetic pants that seemed wind and waterproof, and an expression that looked like a threat, the specifics of which I didn’t want to know.
 

He grabbed me, tossed me over his shoulder as if I were weightless, and ferried me down the steps.

When he reached the bottom, he let me down. Before I had a chance to glare, he grabbed my arms and forced me to walk to the back of the sofa. The unfamiliar clothes waited in a messy heap on the cushions. “Get dressed,” he said, releasing me roughly.

“Or what? What are you going to do?”

“Whatever it takes,” he said.

I started toward the stairs.

He took hold of my shoulders, not gently, and turned me. Gave me a shove. I took two steps, then stopped and turned to face him. “I said no. I’m not getting dressed. I want to
sleep
. Ok? Sleep!”

He approached, eyes penetrating mine. Then he whipped me around, bent me over the back of the plush sofa, and slapped my panty-covered ass. Hard.
 

The attraction that perpetually simmered between us exploded. The air crackled with it, and my inner muscles tightened. Apparently, underneath the numbness that dulled my misery, my body had been craving Corbin’s dominant touch most of all.

I arched my back, thrusting out my ass. This was something I could bear to feel. Something I could use. What I needed was what I’d pushed him into giving: punishment. And I needed to feel something that was positive, too, to lose myself in mindless bliss.

Corbin gathered up the back of my shirt and tightened his grip, keeping me from moving. “This isn’t a game.”

“Please,” I whimpered. I craned my neck, caught his gaze.

But he shook his head slowly. “No,” he said. “I won’t let you ruin us by using sex as a crutch. And if you were thinking clearly, you would agree.”

I ignored the flicker of doubt raised by his words. “An orgasm,” I pleaded as I sank my fingers into the soft upholstery. “It would help.”

“Oh, I’m sure it would.” His teeth flashed, but there was no humor there. “Temporarily. And then what? More sex? I fuck you until you’re raw and bloody, until you beg me to hurt you more, to break you? No. We’re not going to plug the black hole left by this tragedy with the pieces of our relationship.”

My gaze dipped down, and triumph shot through me. “Awfully poetic for a man whose erection is about to rip through his pants.” Because it was. Jeans did a passable job of restraining him, but the outline of his thick cock was well on display now. I could practically see him throbbing.

His brows drew together. “Do I want to fuck you? Yes. If we’re in the same room, it’s safe to assume that I want to stick my cock in you. But I won’t.” He slowly leaned his large body over mine. He was too close, and it was too emotionally intimate, so I looked away and arched my back, enjoying the feel of his broad chest pressing into my shoulders. I rocked my hips, urging his hardened bulge to come out and play.

I felt his breath on the back of my neck, and my pussy ached.

But he was only reaching over me for the long underwear again. “We talked about trust before. It’s something you have to give me. I can’t order it from you. But I am requesting, as sincerely as I can, that you trust me in this, Audrey. If I’ve earned your respect at all, now’s the time to show it.”

His words shot straight to my heart, weakening the walls of self-pity that I’d erected. All he asked was a chance, and I owed him that, even if I wanted to take a nap with my head in the oven.

He knelt, and I pushed away from the sofa and obediently stepped into the long underwear and allowed him to pull them up. Next he put black snow pants on me.
 

“Take off your shirt.”

I slowly pulled off the shirt and dropped it to the floor. I unclasped my bra, let the straps slide teasingly down my arms, waiting for him to tell me to leave the bra on. But he didn’t.

Apparently a man could only hold out for so long.

Corbin’s eyes were trained on mine the whole time, but I knew he was watching my hardening nipples in his peripheral vision. Maybe he could control every muscle of his face, but his dick hadn’t gotten the “ignore Audrey” memo.

“I like those pants. Bet they’re healthier than jeans,” I said.

“I appreciate your concern for my genitalia.” He might have been trying for unsexy, but I was so ramped up that his words only made me wetter.
 

“Very concerned. Think I should take a look—”
 

If his lips had compressed any tighter, they would have disappeared. “Arms up.” He pulled a sports bra over my head. And not well. I jerked away and worked the tight bra down. Then I put on the long underwear top and light-blue, soft wool sweater.