Page 21 of Kane

But she didn’t say anything.

Damn, I wanted her to. But she wasn’t ready.

For the moment, the way she looked at me—like she wanted to taste every dark, dangerous part of me—was enough.

I cursed under my breath and rolled off her before I said fuck it and ruined everything.

The loss of heat between us was immediate. She let out a soft, involuntary noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a moan and nearly dragged me right back in.

I sat on the edge of the bed, running both hands through my hair, sucking in air like it might cool the furnace she’d lit in my blood.

Savannah stayed quiet behind me. I could feel her watching me. Could feel the questions simmering behind those sharp ocean-blue eyes.

I wasn’t ready to answer them, so I stood, walked to the dresser, and grabbed a fresh shirt and jeans. My hands weren’t steady. My head wasn’t clear. I needed air and a fucking ice-cold shower. I also needed distance to reclaim my grip on life. To remember my priorities because I could feel them shifting.

The room was quiet as I pulled on my clothes. Then I shoved my cut on, grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and glanced down at her.

She was sitting up in bed now, the blanket clutched to her chest, her hair a tangled mess around her flushed face. Blue eyes wide and still hazy with remnants of desire.

Fucking hell.She looked so damn beautiful it hurt.

Without another word, I left the room.

And told myself I wasn’t going back tonight.

Even though we both knew I would.

Two fucking days.

Two days of bringing her meals, watching her mouth wrap around a damn spoon, and trying not to let my dick do the thinking. Two days of pretending I wasn’t counting the seconds till I could climb into bed next to her like an addict getting his fix.

I wasn’t used to denying myself. Not that I’d had any desire for a woman in a long time, but generally, when I wanted something, I fucking took it. It was how I’d built an empire and had a reputation for being a ruthless son of a bitch who inspired fear and respect.

Yet one tiny woman was pushing my buttons and driving me up the wall.

I’d stopped making her stay in the bedroom. It didn’t make a difference. She stuck close to the couch or curled into the chairby the window with a book from the stack I bought her, and those soft little sounds she made while reading turned my brain into sludge.

I was fucking losing it.

She wasn’t breaking. No panic, no bargaining, no sudden slips of information. Just Savannah, with that stubborn mouth and sharp eyes, meeting me head-on every time I tried to shake something loose. She didn’t cower. Didn’t run. She watched me—like she wanted to peel back my skin and get a good look at what was underneath. As though she wanted to understand me.

But I didn’t fucking understand myself right now.

Which made me feel slightly unhinged. Not a good idea for someone as dangerous and ruthless as me.

I shoved the door open harder than necessary and stepped into the room. She was on the chair, legs tucked up under her, reading again. Her head snapped up. Blue eyes sharp as ever.

“Back for more?” she asked, tone light but daring.

I kicked the door shut behind me and stalked forward. “You tell me.”

She marked her page and shut the book. “Let me guess. You’re here to ask if I suddenly remembered some incriminating detail about my brother. A secret alias? A safety deposit box? The location of the Ark of the Covenant?”

“Don’t play with me, Savannah.” My voice came out low, rougher than I meant. “Tired of circling the same damn questions.”

She huffed. “Then maybe stop asking them.”

I leaned over the chair, bracing a hand on either side of her head. “You really don’t give a fuck that I have you locked in my room?”