Page 22 of Faded Gray Lines

Step. Shift. Counter. Shuffle. Twist. Dip.

We were poetry in motion, and if I hadn’t forgotten how to breathe, I might have marveled at how quickly we’d fallen in sync. However, the reminder that our fluidity was just an illusion came rushing back as soon as my ass hit the edge of the sink and he blocked me against it, an inked arm on either side.

“Settle down. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Really? Who’s going to stop me? Are you going to manhandle me now too?”

“I don’t have to touch you, Star.” As if reading my own salacious thoughts, he pressed his hips dangerously close to mine. “You’re not going to leave because you don’t want to.” On the last word, his breath fanned across my cheek, blowing my hair and igniting a firestorm. Shifting his stance, he closed the remaining distance between us, the swell of his bottom lip brushing against the shell of my ear. “Although, leaving is your specialty, isn’t it?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I snapped, although it came out more like a moan.

He pulled back and stared at me. “Walking away,mi amor. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. Turning your back on those you profess to love is yours. Of course, I suppose Luis found that out firsthand.”

Oh, God, he knew.

How could Brody have told him? Everything I thought I knew just exploded in my face, so I did the only thing I could to cover the pain in my voice. I masked it with rage from opening an old scar.

“Are you insane or just plain cruel? You leftme, you selfish dick!”

He tensed as he pulled back, his eyes burning into mine. “Women’s tongues are bathed in lies. I’d watch yours, little lamb, before someone decides to relieve you of it.”

I didn’t pause to think. My hand flew on its own, ready to strike. Inches before my palm connected with his cheek, his fingers wrapped around my wrist and held it with enough pressure to show me he was in control.

A delicate balance of pain and pleasure. So familiar, yet so foreign.

I flinched as he raised his other hand to my face, the lines in his forehead deepening as he studied me. Opening his palm, he ran it down the length of my hair, his fingers stopping at the barrette to release the clasp that held most of it back. As my straight blonde hair tumbled around my shoulders, he hummed his appreciation, continuing his path until he rubbed the ends between his fingers.

“You cut your hair.”

“I had to,” I whispered. “It was just more practical for...” I sighed and shook my head. “...it was just more practical.”

His serious expression faded as a self-indulgent smirk settled across his mouth, he wound a handful around his fist and gave it a tug. “Still enough to grab.”

He had me at his mercy. Words were my only weapon.

“You’ve become quite crude.”

“Being sent to prison does that to a man.”

I stared at him, openmouthed and wide-eyed.

He cocked his head and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know what happened that night.”

“I didn’t. I—I don’t.”

“Well, you didn’t wait around to find out, did you, Star?” He paused, pressing our hips together again, causing me to bite back a groan. “Or should I call you Leighton? That is your name, isn’t it? Leighton Harcourt—the woman at the root of an international war. How does it feel to have so much blood on your delicate little hands?”

“Why are you being so cruel?” I fought his grip and dropped my chin forward, but he tightened his hold on my hair, pulling it back up.

“I’ve always told you I was cruel. You just didn’t divulge the same, Star.”

I jerked against him. “Stop calling me that!”

“You really are still an innocent little lamb, aren’t you?”

As I’m discovering, more like a sacrificial lamb.

“I’m far from innocent,” I hissed. “And you’re one to talk. Don’t hand me that ‘shareholder of RVC Enterprises’ bullshit my brother tried to sell me. I know exactly who you are.”