Page 14 of James (Big Northwest #6)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

PHILLIP

T HOSE WORDS COMING through James’s lips were yet another perfect example of why he should stay as far from her as possible. Because all he wanted was to drop to his knees and give her what she needed.

“Why can’t I leave you alone?” It was a question he’d asked himself a hundred times. And a hundred times he’d only come up with one answer.

The same answer James gave him now.

“Because you don’t want to.”

As much as he hated to admit it—had tried his best to refuse to acknowledge it—it was the truth. He was here, with her now, by choice. He could have sent James to Pierce. Could have told her sisters to call Alaskan Security the same way he had with everyone else who’d needed more than he’d decided to provide.

They probably would have all been better off if he had.

Instead, he’d continued choosing to keep himself squarely in the middle of the hunt for the missing Karlson sister. Even when the money ran out. Even when he knew James herself would be a problem for him. Even when it became obvious the situation was ten times more dangerous than he’d initially believed.

He kept. Fucking. Coming. Back.

“I don’t want to want you.” Phillip tried making the claim one more time. Just in case it was the one that would make it true.

James chuckled, the sound shooting straight to his dick the same as everything else she did. “I don’t blame you on that one. I am kind of a handful.” She wiggled her brows. “But I’m a fun handful.”

Once again, she was right. And it had been so goddamn long since he’d had fun. So long since he’d gotten any sort of real happiness out of his life. So long since he’d allowed himself the leeway to do anything that might bring him joy.

Because the things that brought him joy were not the things that brought most people joy. Sure, he could find some sort of satisfaction in baking a cake or running a business, but it wasn’t the same thrill he got from hunting down an awful human and making sure they got what they deserved.

Being a mercenary and living a normal life didn’t go hand in hand. He wanted a wife. Kids. That sort of happiness wasn’t meant for men who did the things he used to do. His father was a prime example of that.

The old man might not have literally killed people, but he’d done it all the same. Taken over businesses without caring where that left the employees. Changing the terms of contracts and agreements simply because he could. Running competitors into the ground with a smile on his fucking face, knowing they’d never be able to recover. Death came in many forms, and not all of them stopped your heart. Some just killed your soul.

And his father killed souls simply to chase the high he got by wielding power over others.

“Life isn’t about having fun, James.” It was an understanding he’d come to even before the night he got caught in the crosshairs of his father’s karma. One day he woke up and realized the world around him was never going to change. If he stayed at Alaskan Security, he was all he’d ever be.

He thought he’d come up with a plan to change that. To build a life that could give him more.

Instead, he’d simply created a new world with the same problem.

James sighed, planting one hand in the center of his chest and giving him a hard shove that sent him stumbling back before she pushed past him. “Then I guess I’ll let you get to it.” She stepped out of the bathroom, the robe she had on slipping down her arms to reveal just how little she was wearing underneath. Peeking back at him over one shoulder, James gave him a little smile, her eyes dipping to the tent at the front of his pants. “For the record, I won’t mind if you think of me while you jack off.” Then she disappeared around the corner.

Leaving him staring after her.

Reaching out, he gripped the edge of the door and slammed it closed. Then he flipped the lock for good measure. He needed as many barriers between them as he could get.

Because those fucking shorts she had on should be criminal. The top was even worse.

Scrubbing one hand over his face, he rubbed his eyes like he could abrade the sight of the curve of James’s ass peeking out at him. Unfortunately, his brain had already screenshot that shit and set it as his mind’s screen saver.

He braced both hands against the edge of the counter, letting his head fall forward. “I’m losing my goddamned mind.”

And it was his own fault. He’d put himself in this position. Could take himself out at any time.

Pierce could still swoop in and protect James. Eliminate anyone after her and get her home to her sisters safe and sound. So why the fuck wasn’t he booking her a trip to Alaska now? Probably because he was a fucking idiot. A glutton for punishment.

A liar.

“Fucking dumbass,” he berated himself as he switched on the shower and started peeling away the rest of his clothes.

He’d almost kissed her. Hell, probably almost fucked her, based on the way he was still salivating over the thought of her under his tongue.

Stepping under the ice-cold spray, he ignored his throbbing dick, refusing to acknowledge the bastard for more than a quick scrub. Stroking himself off to thoughts of James would only whet his already ravenous appetite for her. He had to stay strong. Had to stay the course.

Even though he no longer knew where in the hell it was going.

After finishing up, he roughly dried off with one of the overbleached towels from the rack, quickly combed out his hair…

And discovered in his haste to get away from James, he’d forgotten to bring in underwear. Because of fucking course he did.

Wrapping the towel around his hips, he held the ends together with one hand while he unlocked the door with the other. Taking a steadying breath, he squared his shoulders. All he had to do was get out, grab his underwear, and then get back into the safety of the bathroom.

He should probably grab a T-shirt too. Maybe a fucking chastity belt while he was at it. Might be the only thing that could keep him in line.

Yanking the door open, he rushed out, ready to race his restraint to the suitcase.

“Oof.” James grunted as their bodies collided, the impact sending her tipping backward from where she’d been standing at the small counter area just outside the door, dropping cubes of ice into a cup.

He reached out to grab her as the ice and cup hit the floor.

Along with his towel.

James regained her footing almost instantly, the drink she’d been making forgotten as her blue eyes widened where they were fixed on his dick. “Oh.”

Since she wasn’t in any danger of hitting the floor, he released her, quickly retrieving the towel and holding it in front of his still raging hard-on. “Stop fucking staring at it.”

“I’m not staring at it.” Her gaze was still fused to the same spot. “I can’t even see it now. The stupid towel’s in the way.” Her eyes finally lifted, narrowing as they met his. “And maybe if you quit pointing it at me I wouldn’t keep noticing it.”

“This one’s your fault, Miss ‘you can think of me while you jack off.’” He jabbed an accusing finger at her. “So stop acting like I’m the only problem.”

“How is that my fault?” Outrage pitched her voice. “You obviously didn’t take care of it while you were in there, so that clearly makes it your fault.”

Had she lost her damn mind? “How in the hell am I supposed to do that with you in the next room?”

James lifted her chin, squaring up to him. “No one said you had to do it in the next room.” She held his gaze, challenge burning in her eyes. “I would’ve happily watched.”

The idea had his blood so hot it burned his fucking veins. “This is why I can’t want you, James.” He swung his free hand around in the general direction of everything. “Because this is how it would be all the fucking time.”

One of her brows angled. “I’m pretty sure you’d get over your fear of masturbating while I’m in the next room at some point.”

“I’m not fucking talking about the masturbating.” He could feel himself sliding toward the edge. Inching closer to the part of himself he’d buried.

Not fucking deep enough apparently.

“I’m talking about the way we clash. The way we bring out the worst in each other.”

The way she made him want to be his old self. The one who lived by a different set of rules and flew at a different speed. The one who would end up making a woman want to stab him one day. Not because of cheating, but still. He’d seen what happened when kerosene married a match and the flames burned like hell.

James stared at him in silence, her expression filled with shock.

He was finally getting through to her. Finally making her see why they could never be anything more. Why he would have to walk away once she was safe with her sisters.

She made a choking noise, like she was about to cry.

That was a little bit of an overreaction. They’d only known each other for a week. Barely spent two days together. Nowhere near enough for her to be?—

James snorted, one hand flying to cover her mouth.

“Are you laughing?” Crying had been a little much, but laughing?

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, holding one hand up as she continued cackling behind the other palm. “I just can’t…” She sucked in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she blew it back out. “Sorry.” Meeting his gaze, she said, “I was just surprised you think this is the worst of me.” She made the choking sound again but managed to keep herself under control. “Especially since you’ve seen me hit someone with a car.” James rested a hand against her stomach, still fighting fits of laughter. “I’m also a little disappointed that this is your worst.” She shook her head. “I expected more from you.”

Phillip opened his mouth, but words failed him. Every time he thought he knew what James would do or say next, she surprised him. He’d known—without a shadow of a doubt—this interaction was going to spiral. Quickly get out of control as they each wound tighter and tighter until one of them snapped.

Instead, she was laughing.

Fucking laughing.

“I mean, you claimed to be an assassin, so...” She lifted her brows at him.

“Mercenary. I was a mercenary.” Raking one hand through his damp hair he qualified, “ Former mercenary.” Was he really arguing there was a difference between the two?

“Fine. Former mercenary.” James looked him up and down, her blue eyes snagging on where he still clutched the towel in front of his dick. “As a former mercenary, I’m pretty sure arguing with me isn’t even close to the worst you have to offer.” She smirked at him. “Of course, I’m happy to be the judge if you want to show me a little more.” Her eyes dropped to the front of the towel again. “I didn’t exactly get a great look last time.”

“I’m not saying this is the worst of me.” He was getting exasperated. The awful part was, he fucking liked it. Liked the way she was taunting him. Loved how James did it in an easy-going fashion with a smile on her face. Like she could dish out just a taste of what he loved so much and never give him enough to choke on.

“That’s exactly what you said, weirdo.” She lifted one hand snapping three times. “If we’re going to bring out the worst in each other, you need to start keeping up.”

This woman was a nightmare and a dream all rolled into one. Her humor. Her temperament. Even her barely harnessed rage was fucking perfection.

“I’m not trying to keep up with you, James.” He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t know that I could if I tried.”

She was a tornado and he was caught in her rotation, unable—unwilling—to even attempt to get free. What was the point? He’d keep coming back anyway. Keep letting himself get sucked into her gravitational pull. And the longer he was there, the less mad about it he got.

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to, but I guess I’m not everybody’s cup of tea.” Her brows pinched and her lips flattened. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m not tea at all.” She chewed her lower lip. “I don’t know what I am.”

“Bourbon.” He didn’t even have to think about it.

“Bourbon?” Her expression was skeptical. “I don’t think I’m following.”

“Bourbon is smooth bodied.” His eyes drifted down the tiny scraps of fabric she claimed as pajamas. “Silky. Some might even call it luscious.” He forced his eyes back to hers. “And it’s got a bite.”

One of James’s blonde brows angled. “I’m not sure what kind of bourbon you’ve been drinking, but we must have very different taste when it comes to alcohol.”

“I have a very particular taste when it comes to what I put in my mouth.” And it felt like forever since he’d gotten what he really wanted.

The teasing line of James’s eyebrow faltered, and a little of her bravado evaporated as she swallowed hard, lower lip still pinned between her teeth. There was no missing the heat in her eyes. She’d clearly picked up on his not so thinly veiled innuendo and found it more than a little intriguing. The question was, what was he going to do about it? Would he tuck tail like a coward and run from her again?

Or would he say fuck it, and give in.

James made the decision for him.

She stepped closer, lids growing heavy as her palms came to rest at the center of his bare chest. “Well, let me know if you ever decide you’re hungry. I’m more than willing to let you test your theory.”