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“And you think I sicced myself on you?”

She glares at me. “Didn’t you? You knew I was working on this project, right?”

“Yes.”

“After what happened in Montauk, I figured you’d excuse yourself or at least make sure our schedules don’t clash?”

I shrug. “Why would I?”

“You don’t care that I saw you freak out and try to kill us both in that car?”

“I don’t really care what you think. And there are more effective ways to end one’s life. Driving headlong into a tree offers no guarantee that you’ll be killed instantly. You could end up with nothing but a scratch or two. Or partial paralysis. If you want death to be certain and irreversible, there are more efficient ways.”

She inhales sharply. “Are you joking?”

“No.”

Wariness creeps into her eyes. “You sound like you’ve thought about this a lot,” she says.

I wonder whether to bludgeon her with the truth. Is this tough girl from Brooklyn equipped to handle the evil that stains my heart and plagues my nightmares? “I’m an inventor and an architect, amongst other things. In order to innovate, I have to know how to disinvent.”

“And that includes learning how to kill?” Her voice quivers with a sick curiosity she doesn’t want to admit—a curiosity I understand all too well.

“Are you sure you want to know the answer to that, Keely?” I taunt.

She stares at me for a moment before she collects herself. “If you’re trying to increase your air of intrigue and mystery, save it. I’m not on the market for freaks and weirdos.”

“What are you on the market for?” I parry. “A quick fuck to alleviate that ache ripping you apart inside?”

A flush rises from her neck. “Don’t be an asshole. My sexual needs are none of your concern.”

“So you haven’t done anything about it?”

“Have you done something about yours?” she throws back at me.

“Not yet.” I meet her gaze, give her a glimpse of my monstrous hunger, and am rewarded by a light shudder that accompanies her next breath.

“Damn it,” she mutters before she turns away.

Her gaze lands on the sign on the double doors in front of her, and she slams to a stop.

Indigo Swinger.

She glances over her shoulder at me, and I’m even more convinced that despite her dirty mouth and aggressive exterior, Keely Benson isn’t the siren she purports to be. Granted, she’s still a sex bomb. One that could detonate in my hands if I’m not careful. All the same, I feel the thrill escalate and race through my blood.

“Is this a new addition?” she asks, indicating the sign.

“No.”

Her swift intake of breath makes her nostrils flutter, and all I want to do in that moment is take possession of her.

“Wow. Okay.” She seems lost for a moment before she straightens her shoulders. “I think I’ve seen all I need to see here. I want to see the upper deck now.”

We continue the tour, pretending the charged atmosphere between us doesn’t exist. With each minute that passes, with each inhalation of that sexy scent, which clings to her skin, I want to flatten her to the nearest surface and take the edge off the insane need pounding through me.

By the time we finish the tour, I’ve made up my mind.

Fuck the consequences.