Page 50 of Under His Control

She’s mine, mine, mine.

And God help me, I don't think I’ll ever let her go.

I don’t bother with towels. Instead, I scoop her up, water dripping a trail across the marble floor as I carry her inside. Steam fogs the mirror when I turn on the shower. I set her under the spray, scrubbing gentle circles on her shoulders.

She catalogues my tenderness with a smile. “The ice king melts after all.”

“Temporary thaw,” I counter, working shampoo through her hair. Her lashes flutter closed, lips parting on a soft sigh that turns my blood to lava. Showered, we towel off and head to the bedroom. I tug on a pair of boxer briefs and hand her a gray T-shirt that swallows her down to mid-thigh.

She looks so sexy.

And vulnerable.

A dangerous combination.

I grab some cream from the nightstand. Her back’s sporting a red mark from the pool wall. She lowers herself onto the mattress, wincing a little as she tugs the shirt up to expose the angry bruise.

I kneel next to her, fingers gentle as I work the ointment into her skin. “Hurts?”

“A little,” she says. “But that is making it feel better.”

I rub slowly, like I’m branding her with my touch instead of healing her. I reach for the remote to darken the windows then crawl beside her. She fits against my chest perfectly.

The outside world fades. All that’s left is the rhythm of her breath, her body rising and falling against mine.

Her fingers drift over the scar just below my ribs. Long and narrow, it was a gift from a knife, back when I was younger and angrier. She traces it lightly but doesn’t ask.

Minutes pass. Her breathing deepens, but my mind refuses to rest.

I will soon be delivering the cash to the Bratva.

It should go cleanly. Itwillgo cleanly. I’ve planned every detail. Still, a weight sits in my chest. Chris may be a screwup, but he’s still her brother. And if something goes awry, if Ivan or his people come sniffing around again…

The thought makes my jaw tighten. I’ve buried men for less.

I draw her closer, the need to protect her overwhelmingly strong. When she murmurs something in her sleep, I nearly forget that there’s a world outside and the upcoming meeting even exists.

This woman’s gotten under my skin. Worse, she’s buried herself in my heart.

All I want to do is nap beside her, hold her close.

I let my eyes close, my body rest.

For now, she sleeps safely in my arms.

CHAPTER 19

TAYLOR

Iglance around at the parking lot outside my apartment complex—faded white lines, two dead palm trees, and a sun-bleached soda machine that hasn't worked since the pandemic.

It’s one of those middle-tier places that’s pretty common around Vegas: stucco exterior, mismatched blinds in every window, and just enough landscaping to pass for being maintained.

It’s not glamorous but it’s mine.

As I kill the engine and step out, a tight prickle skates across the back of my neck. The lot is empty except for two compact cars and the maintenance guy’s beater truck.

Still, I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching me. I scold myself for being dramatic and haul my bag onto my shoulder. Just nerves, that’s all.