Page 98 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two

“Ourenemies? I don’t have any enemies,” I say, scoffing.

“You think so? Well, sorry to be the one to break the news, but you do now.”

Well, if that doesn’t have me wanting to shit a brick.

“You’re welcome for saving your ass, by the way,” he sneers, and I can tell he’s pissed.

Why wouldn’t he be?

I feel almost guilty about everything that happened. If I’d stayed my ass in the hotel, I wouldn’t have been chased down by murderous heathens. But what other choice could I make? Storm’s words and actions sent me running.

I can’t trust him not to hurt me, or Tempest and Raiden. I’ll never trust him again.

“So, this is your fault? My children are terrified and wondering where the fuck their mommy is as they fly across the Atlantic, and I nearly got shot to death because you’re connected to some fuck-shit?”

“Ourchildren,” he barks, shifting so suddenly that I rock back on the bed. He moves toward one side of the room, and I squint when he turns on a light in a small hall that leads to what looks like a bathroom.

“You forget, you’re not the Virgin Mary anymore. They have a living father,” Storm says, facing me. Backlit by the soft glow radiating from the space behind him, he looks like an avenging angel coming to tear my shit up.

“Storm, can you just…be normal for five minutes? How long until we land?”

Storm walks toward me with slow, measured steps, and I find myself scooting back on the mattress. Not that it helps. Storm leans over me, trapping my legs at the edge of the bed, and his arms bracket my hips.

We’re face-to-face in a few heartbeats.

“We have about five hours until we land, Sweetness,” he says, his words cold, but his eyes… Goddamn him for always setting me on fire.

“And the reason for the two planes is simple: I don’t want the kids to worry about how long you’d be asleep…and I don’t want them to hear what happens between us during this flight.”

Those words cause a bolt of lust to shoot right to my southern parts, and I have no clue how to stop it.

“I’m not having sex with you,” I blurt out, probably more to enforce the words to my damn self than to him.

Storm grins, the side of his mouth lifting.

“Well, I can tell where your mind is,” he replies, and my face heats. “But sorry, Sweetness, no matter how much you beg for my dick, you’re not getting it tonight.”

I almost want to blurt out, “Why?” but I restrain myself.

“Sure,” I say instead. Storm stares at me hard for a long moment, his eyes tracking all over my face. The action makes me want to cry or melt into a puddle right here in the middle of his bed.

I bite my lip instead and look down at my lap.

“What do you want, Storm?” I whisper, and it takes him a second to answer.

“Want? Let me go down the list,” he replies, and straightens. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a folded piece of paper and drops it in my lap. I scan the sheet, my brows coming together.

“What’s this?” I reply, a little bewildered as I look at the lab logo at the top of the page.

“My test results. Taken by my on-call doctor after you left last night and fast-tracked to get the results this morning. As you can see, I don’t have anything.”

My mouth drops open, my hands shaking. He’d only give me this if he expected us to be having sex, which is the exact thing we shouldnotdo again.

“I don’t know why you’re giving me this,” I say after clearing my throat. “Like I said, we’re not fucking.”

I sit up primly, swinging my leg over the other and placing my hands in my lap as if I were being interviewed by Oprah.

Stormtsks.