Page 50 of Mercenary

“You’re asking for trouble . . .”

She touches my arm with one hand and places the other palm first over my heart. “You’re warm.”

I feel like pushing her hand off my chest and downward, onto my throbbing erection. In a second, she’s going to learn exactly the kind of man she’s fucking with.

“It takes more courage opening up to someone than telling them to go to hell.”

“Yeah, how many people have you told to go to hell?”

She opens then closes her mouth.

“Just as I thought.” I stare at her. So sweet, not a bad bone in her. So beautiful, with her blond hair hanging loose around her shoulders and that shy yet encouraging smile on her lips. She doesn’t have a clue as to the trouble she’s stirring up. Who she’s dealing with. I’m not her hero. I’m the asshole using her to get a job done. “Tell me,” I demand. “‘Go to hell, you bastard.’”

“What? No.”

“Do it.”

Her spine stiffens and she raises her chin, her eyes flashing. “No.”

I step away, fast. Breaking contact as I brush by her, making a beeline for the bathroom.

“Declan,” she softly calls after me.

In my line of work, poor judgment gets you a bullet in the heart. Your throat slashed. You gasping your last breath thinking how badly you just screwed up. Good judgment is me stepping inside and slamming the bathroom door shut.

For once in my life, I try to do the right thing. Except bad fucking judgment has me stopping and turning back her way.

To find the nightgown on the floor.

Her stepping free of the pants around her ankles.

The paleness of her skin, her thighs accentuated by silky red underwear, and—fuck me now—a matching red silk bra.

And my finely threaded control snaps. Kicked to the carpet and sent rolling in a shit-for-brains ball across the floor to land up snug against the nightgown at her feet.

15

Madelyn

As long as I live, I’ll never forget the moment Declan changed his mind. It’s like witnessing a windshield crack, starting out with the smallest of nicks, leading to a small hairline crack and then longer, deeper ones, until the windshield is unrecognizable mere seconds before it shatters.

Luciana and I giggled over the sexy red lingerie she stuffed into my duffle bag. The perfect gonna-get-your-sexy-on attire for a woman on a mission to get her V card stamped. She promised it’d do the trick.

Little did I know it’d be like waving a red flag in a bull’s face.

I brace myself as Declan charges across the small room. I carried the memory of him around in my head for months. Vividly imagined what this would be like, gotten off to it. But what sealed the deal for me?

That damn word. No.

He didn’t exactly say it.

But I felt it, him freezing me out. All that talk about him being trouble, warning me away. Him never having a girlfriend.

Even I—the virgin queen—had Brendan.

Yeah, and I walked away with my crown still intact.

Not for long . . .