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“No.Don’t ‘Little Bear’ me. We’re not rushing into any of this.”
“I agree.” I pace away. “We let the heat die down. So get comfortable. I’ll be back with your disguises and some food.”
“Can we walk around upstairs?” Quinn asks.
I eye her father, judging him. “I’m not quite there yet.”
xxx
Days go by, and it’s agonizing to be around Quinn and not wrap her up into one of our little games. Seeing her walk around with a towel hardly covering the tops of her thighs… it’s a sick form of torture, and she knows it too. I see those looks.
Letting them up one at a time is my compromise for now. Still, I can’t bring myself to ravage her while her father is downstairs. What am I, a fucking teenager?
She knows my trepidation and teases me all the same. Bitch.
She flashes her ass at me—that perfectly shaped, pale ass—and when she bends down to get something, a pink set of lips makes vats of blood flow into one location.
“Silver,” she says innocently.
“What?” I growl.
“It’s time I leave the house. I’ll wear the stupid wig.”
I squint at her suspiciously. “What do you have in mind?”
She swishes her towel back and forth. “A date.”
The idea piques my interest, even if it is dangerous as hell. The Russian heat hasn’t died down in the slightest. John Scartells me the police investigation has tripled, linked to the cartel again—which means Ferraro is conducting his own side investigation while misdirecting the entire force. It’s madness out there.
“You seem like you know what you want.” I’m very suspicious.
“I do.” She flirts one shoulder and coyly struts up to me, her bare feet leaving prints on the floor.
I don’t back away. The pleats in my pants tighten. Every part of me wants to rip off that towel and see her shapely breasts bounce and rash from whipping it off her.
“Now that Dad’s safe and free, kind of, I’ve been thinking.” She takes the lapels of my suit jacket, clear nail polish shimmering in the light. “Take me on set ofChilling Desires.Puh-lease.”
I scoff and turn away. “This kid.”
“C’mon! I said I’ll wear the wig. What else do you want, sunglasses?Fakeglasses? I can do that. I’m dying to know if they’re going to shoot a continuation to the tree branch murder.” She pushes herself onto me, lifting her towel just enough so my rock-hard cock touches her clit.
Biting her lip and holding eye contact with me makes it almost impossible to resist.
Knock! Knock!
Even though it’s supposed to be soundproof, the cellar doorhammersback and forth, and we both jump in place.
In a fit of anger, I point for her to get the hell away from me. Thank God the door is soundproof, otherwise, Patrick would hear all the scurrying. I swear… This isridiculous.
Tucking my erection north under my belt and whipping the flaps of my suit jacket shut, I wash my hands before getting the door.
I open the door. “Is the sky falling?”
“Getting antsy down there.” He pushes passed me, and I pray to God he doesn’t notice Quinn’s footprints shining in the light. “I have an idea about Ferraro.”
He’s preoccupied, good.
“What?”