Wrong Kind of Love

“Then good luck!” Tor’s voice drifts from the bathroom at the end of the hall. Caleb left to go to work at Elysium an hour ago, and no one else is in the house. God, I’m going to kill her.

I make my way down the hall just as she steps out of the bathroom, and she looks like a damn cat caught with a pet canary in its mouth. Guilty as fuck.

My annoyance builds like a pressure valve, creeping toward an explosion. “Give me the fucking phone.” There’s a moment of hesitation before she drops the burner phone into my waiting palm. Her face goes a little pale before she spins around to walk off. Audacious as hell. I snatch her arm and yank her back a step. “Who did you call?”

She stares at the floor, and with each second of silence that passes, my temper flares. I have a damn good idea who, and it pisses me off on so many levels I see red.

“Euan.”

Heat floods my body. She called that sick son of a bitch. The thought of her crying, begging him to save her, causes my grip to tighten on her arm. That phone is untraceable, but she is naïve to that, and if she’s going to be here, I need her to think. I can’t afford a loose-cannon liability. That one call could have damned us all.

“Do you have any fucking idea what you could have done?”

“I wanted to hear it from him.”

“Hear what from him?”

“About his uncle…”

She wanted to hear it from the guy who handed her over, from the guy who is just as guilty as Tom and the reason she’s here in the first place, trapped. My jaw clenches to the point it aches, and I find myself shoving her against the wall. “Do you realize what you could have done just so you could talk to your piece of shit boyfriend?”

There’s a moment where I can see it register on her face. A fleeting moment where a tiny shred of panic swims in her eyes, but then it shutters, and she shoves against my chest. “Oh, I’m just expected to sit here and take your word for everything? I am—”

“This isn’t a fucking summer camp, Tor.”

“I’m well aware, Jude.” She points to her stitched throat, then shoves me again. Harder this time, but all I do is pin her to the wall with my entire body.

I’m livid at the situation, and if I’m honest, it’s not just the stupidity that’s under my skin. It’s the vein of jealousy ripping through me that she called him.

“He said you want him dead,” she says it like that’s a shocker.

“Damn fucking right.” I lean down by her ear, inhaling the soft scent of her skin. The heat of her neck against my lips makes me want to bite her, mark her. The brewing jealousy flares because that little shit Euan has had something I want. “I want him dead because of what he did to you. It’s personal.” I press against her, and her palm lands on my chest, but instead of pushing me away again, she fists my shirt. “Did you tell him you miss him, Tor?”

“No.”

“Did you tell him how awful I am to you?”

“No.” She drags in an uneven breath, and God help me, this woman makes me insane in more ways than one.

I move my hand from her shoulder to her neck, skimming my fingers along the column of her throat until I’m gripping her jaw. There’s some magnetic pull between us, charged like static electricity. Primal, borderline barbaric. I grind against her, creating friction that has me seconds from ripping off her clothes. I imagine what she’d taste like, what that damn mouth of hers would sound like screaming my name. “You really shouldn’t want to fuck me, Tor. It’s gonna get you into trouble.”

She drops her head back against the wall on a hard breath like she’s annoyed at the fact she can’t deny it. I fight the temptation. I have to slip my hand underneath the waist of her jeans and see how wet she is, telling myself this is more than wrong.

“Touch one of my phones again, Tor,” I press a kiss to her throat, savoring the sweet taste of her skin as I back away, dick hard and balls tight. “And see what fucking happens.”

There’s no way I can sleep in that room with her tonight. I may lack a lot of morals, but fucking her is a line I don’t need to cross.

_____

I beat one off last night and slept in my office. The crick in my neck tells me that was a bad idea, and my dick fucking agrees. I take a piss and brush my teeth, then go to the kitchen for coffee, groaning when I notice it’s only six am. The girl’s screwing with every aspect of my life, right down to my sleep.