Unshackle (Deliver 7)

“But you’re still a snake.” She shook her head, fighting the impulse to step back. “You’re a bad guy.”

“I hear the question in your voice.” He prowled forward, edging into her space.

“No question.” She thrust up her chin. “I was there this morning, remember? Pinned beneath your brutality with my face shoved into the floor.”

“Yes, but you’re also realizing there’s more to me than that moment.”

“Like the fact that you’re working against the cartel? That you’re hiding some traitorous shit that I want nothing to do with? Will you kill me if I discover your secrets? The cartel certainly will if they think I’m involved.”

A muscle feathered across his shirtless chest, his expression twitching with contemplation. “I’ll tell you my secrets.”

Her mouth parted.

“If,” he said, “you tell me yours.”

“Get real.”

“Start with your education. You were born and raised in Mexico, but your English is perfect.”

If she made up a story about that, he would read her like a lie detector. So all she gave him was a blank stare.

He met it with one of his own, and here they were again, locked in a silent battle of wills.

Could this guy be any more frustrating? Or intimidating? Or good-looking? Let’s face it. She’d never been more captivated by a human being, let alone a human with a dick.

And mesmerizing green eyes.

And sculpted lips.

The tension between them passed, and those lips became an open-mouthed sigh. “We’re done here.”

Turning on his heel, he jogged back toward the estate. He paced his speed to keep her at his side, but instead of heading back to his quarters, he led her to the gym.

She welcomed that idea, hoping to avoid his bed as long as possible.

Strolling into the weight room, he snapped his fingers at the two guests on the weight machines. “Get out.”

“Excuse me?” The younger of the two puffed out his chest.

“I didn’t stutter.”

John had more muscle and strength than both of those men combined. But it was his warlike posture and menacing scowl that sent them hurrying out of the room.

“You’re not making any friends.” She rubbed her neck, looking around at the commercial machines and free weights. This was the longest she’d ever been in this building.

“I’m not here to make friends.” He glanced at the camera in the ceiling and ambled toward a rack of kettlebells. “Follow me.”

“You know, not everything has to be an authoritarian command. You could ask out of common decency.”

He extended a finger toward the floor beside him and waited.

“Right.” She grumbled a few choice words under her breath and dragged her feet to where he wanted her. “Now what?”

“You know how to hit, but you’ll land harder punches if you strengthen the muscles here.”

He jabbed his thumbs into her shoulders. Then he proceeded to show her how to build those muscles.

She questioned his motivation just as she questioned everything about him. But she needed to be patient. She’d only just met him last night. Less than twenty-four hours ago.

It’s going to be a long week.

Once she got the hang of the repetitions, he left her to it and moved toward the heavier iron on the other side of the room.

For the next hour, they worked out in silence. She transitioned to the machines while he tossed around some deadly weight. His physique glistened with sweat, swelling and flexing obscenely.

The barbell loved him, and he seemed to love the punishment it put on his upper body. His chest, shoulders, and triceps contracted with every heave and pull. His lips curled back from his teeth, his grunts and pained breaths making it impossible to ignore his presence.

He was an erotic destination, a trip she had no business taking with her eyes. But the impulse couldn’t be denied. She looked long and often, and he caught her every time, because he was looking, too.

Plenty of men had stared at her, here and before. But not the way he did. Not at his level of predatory intensity.

He reminded her of a big, sleek cat, with an air of smugness and danger that came from being well-fed yet always hunting. And why wouldn’t he look at her like she was his next meal? He’d bought himself a week with her to do whatever he pleased outside the reach of the law. He didn’t need to ask her permission, for anything, and he wouldn’t.

But you’re also realizing there’s more to me than that moment.

Maybe.

Maybe that was what scared her the most.CHAPTER 14Standing at the vanity in his bathroom, Luke scraped a razor across his jaw and watched his little warrior in the mirror. The view was no less than stunning, and his blood simmered with appreciation.

Beneath the spray of the shower, she rinsed the soap from her hair, smoothing the long coils into a black velvet curtain. Water sluiced down her tawny body, running sensual rivulets around toned curves and muscle.