Love the Way You Lie (Stripped 1)

I can’t see his expression; I’m still facing away from him. His hands are still on my hips. But I can imagine his eyes when he says it, that mix of curiosity and reluctance. As if he’s intrigued by me but he doesn’t want to be.

I can feel him thinking instead. He’s trying to figure me out. He’s trying to burrow inside me until he sees how I work. But it will never work, because I’m not real. I’m smoke and mirrors—a magic trick. If he looks too closely, I’ll disappear.

I pull away and face him.

He’s a study in textures—the shadowed stubble on his jaw, the dark pools of his eyes. The worn leather of his jacket and the thick denim of his jeans. He is his own planet, terrain to be explored, mountains to climb and oceans to drown in. My fingers itch to touch him, though I’m not sure where I would start. I think his hair, because I want to know if he can be soft there, at least. Because the rest of him is so hard.

But I don’t touch him. “What do you want?”

He looks away and blows out a breath. “To give you something.”

“Something else?” I still have the Taser he gave me in my bag. Not that I could have used it on him. He caught me totally by surprise just now.

He reaches into his jacket and pulls something out. This time I don’t need to hold it to know what it is. I don’t extend my hand either.

Instead a strangled sound escapes me. “A gun?”

His expression is almost bashful, a sharp contrast to the sleek heavy metal thing he holds so expertly. “I was thinking…the Taser isn’t enough. Not in this neighborhood. Not with you working here.”

“Is that even legal?” I squeak.

His low laugh is my answer. “Do you want to put your name in a database?”

“No, but I don’t want a gun either.” I’m more likely to accidentally shoot somebody than protect myself with that. The Taser was already a big step for me. The gun is downright terrifying. It’s too much. I can’t take it.

He seems to understand that. He nods and puts it back in his jacket. “If you change your mind…”

I stare at him, both confused and captivated. What strange gifts he’s brought for me. First the Taser. Now the gun. They’re both so violent. I hate violence. But they are also protection—and I need protection.

He’s like a cat bringing me a dead mouse as a gift. Disturbing. And sweet.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

I should tell him yes. I should tell him to leave. “Don’t go.”

Christ, I’m in too deep. How long has it been since I was attracted to a man? I’m not sure I ever have been. I had a crush on the bodyguard, but that was girlish—despite the adult things he did to me. There had barely been time, or opportunity, to look at men before I got engaged to Byron. And now I’m so far into this man, into Kip, that I don’t know how to back away.

Kip smiles a little. “Then I’ll stay.”

I narrow my eyes, playfully suspicious. “Now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me?”

His smile gives me all kinds of suggestions. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you like.”

Oh, he’s good. A little spark of pleasure lights up in me. It may just be a line he gives all the girls, but it works. It’s more seductive than his scruff or his muscles or his boots—the idea that he cares. I dance every day, trying to please men I don’t even know. And here is this one, trying to please me.

“I like to dance.”

“I’d like to see that.”

“Then why don’t you come into the club?”

“Not like that. I’d like to see you dance the way you want to.”

I’m not sure that’s even possible. If I know he’s there, I’ll be dancing for him. I’ve been trained too well—by Byron, by my father. I even perform for Clara, in a way. There is no freedom with other people. Only in being alone.