Wanted
Page 31
For one brief, shining, magical moment, I thought that was what he had in mind. His head dipped toward mine, his lips coming close to my ear. “Why?” he said. “Why the hell did Jahn leave it to you?”
“What?” I jerked back, embarrassed and confused. And, at the same time, I realized that he hadn’t leaned close to me to flirt, but to be heard. The Klaxons were real—he’d triggered the alarm when he’d stopped the elevator.
A tinny voice suddenly filled the car. “Sir? Ma’am? What’s the problem?”
Evan tilted his head up toward the ceiling vent where, presumably, a security camera was recording our little drama. “Turn off the damn alarm,” he said.
“I need to know if there’s a problem. Ma’am, is this man threatening you?”
I realized what it must look like from the security guard’s perspective. “No,” I said. “I’m okay.”
For a moment, there was just the sound of the alarm. Then the guard’s voice came back on, tight and authoritative. “Sir, you need to put the elevator in motion.”
“In a damn minute,” Evan said. “Turn off the fucking alarm.”
“Sir—” But Evan just reached over and flipped the switch that controlled the intercom.
A moment later, the alarm quit howling. Then the elevator started moving again, and I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or amused.
I settled on amused. “Guess they have an override button,” I said, unable to help my grin.
“Fuck it,” Evan said, and although I couldn’t be certain, I thought he was biting back a grin, too.
The display showed that we were passing the thirty-second floor. Evan reached over and pressed the button for thirty. A moment later, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. I didn’t have a clue what he was doing, at least not until he took my arm and tugged me out of the car with him.
The elevator bank was empty, bordered on the left by the glass doors of a law firm and on the right by solid wooden doors with tiny gold letters. Presumably a small business. Neither place looked busy today.
“We’re going to talk,” Evan said. “Without building security listening in, and without sound effects.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I figured that out on my own.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “So talk.”
“I want to know why he left it to you.”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. I saw your face.”
Since I couldn’t argue with that, I shifted course. “Why do you care, anyway?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m sure Jahn had his, too.” I dragged a hand through my hair, which was a mistake, as it reminded me of how grungy I felt. Which was not a happy thought considering Evan was standing right there looking, as always, as sexy as sin.
“You know what?” I finally said. “It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. And as far as I can tell, you’re gone, too.” I cocked my head as if just remembering something. “Oh, did I say gone? Not really the best choice of words, since you shouldn’t have even been in my life in the first place. After all, it was just one big mistake. Right?”
He said nothing, but I saw the way his jaw tightened, as if he were digging in, preparing to stand his ground.
I felt tears prick my eyes and hated myself for it. “Damn you, Evan Black.” I leaned over to push the elevator call button, but he grabbed my hand, stopping me.
I looked down at where he held my wrist. “Careful, I might break.” I met his eyes. “That’s what you think I am, right? Some fragile porcelain princess? That you’d shock me with all those things you said? That you’d break me if we went too far?”
“Angie.” The regret in his voice curled through me, and I clutched tighter to my anger, holding it close to give me strength.
“No, don’t even. You saw the way I melted down, and after you went too far comforting me, you ran for your goddamn life. Well, you know what, Evan, you’re an idiot. You can’t break me. I’m already broken.” What I didn’t say was that I was afraid that he was the only one who could put me back together. He was certainly the only one who’d ever made me feel whole.
“You think I see you as fragile? You think I don’t want you? Do you have any idea how hard it was to sit in that room just now and not touch you? It was hard enough before the other night, but Jesus, to come as close as we did, and then back it off? It’s like trying to turn the goddamn Titanic, and I feel like I’ve crashed into a fucking iceberg.”
I gaped at him, my heard pounding, my skin prickling. He was saying things I thought I wanted to hear, but I was afraid to hope, and so I only stood there, silently begging him to continue.
“Do you want to hear me say that I look at you and I go weak? That I want to taste you and touch you? That I want to break you and see you shatter beneath me? Dammit, Angie, is that what you want to hear?”
Yes, dear God, yes.
I was screaming the words inside my head, but outside I was too shocked, too amazed, too damn aroused to say anything at all. It didn’t matter. As always, Evan understood me.
His face softened, the vibrancy fading to a passionate glow. “I’m telling you now, because we both need to hear it. I want you, Angelina. I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you. Wanted your fire, and that haunted look in your eyes. Wanted you to look at me the way that you do. For years, I’ve wanted to lose myself in you. Wanted to break you open and see the woman inside.”
“You could,” I whispered, though I’m not sure how I managed to find my voice. “I think you’re the only one who could shatter me.”
“Maybe.” He reached out as if to touch me, but his hand only stroked the air above my skin, as if he was warming himself in my heat, or as if he was afraid that if he lowered his hand those few millimeters to actually make contact, that we would both burst into flames right then.
He may not have touched me, but he might as well have, and when he pulled his hand away, I heard myself whimper.
Slowly, he thrust his hands into his pockets. “I can live with the things I’ve done,” he said. “After all, I can’t be anyone other than the man I am—the man walking the path I made. But we all have a code, baby. And how can I break my own code and still live with myself?”
I realized I was shaking my head in protest. “Fuck your code,” I said, but I spoke gently, my tone in sharp contrast to my words. And then, emboldened, I leaned forward and brushed my lips over his mouth.
I heard his moan. I felt his hands close over my shoulders. I felt the hard knot of passion growing in my belly, the sweet tingling sensation growing between my thighs.
And then, more keenly, I felt him gently push me away.
“Don’t do this,” he said. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Maybe I want to tempt you.”
“I’m not the man you want.”
“You are,” I said earnestly.
“Maybe. But I’m not the man you need.”
I flinched, because he was so very wrong. He just might be the only man I need.
“How do you know what I need?” I demanded. “Because you made a promise to a dead man?”
“What?” I jerked back, embarrassed and confused. And, at the same time, I realized that he hadn’t leaned close to me to flirt, but to be heard. The Klaxons were real—he’d triggered the alarm when he’d stopped the elevator.
A tinny voice suddenly filled the car. “Sir? Ma’am? What’s the problem?”
Evan tilted his head up toward the ceiling vent where, presumably, a security camera was recording our little drama. “Turn off the damn alarm,” he said.
“I need to know if there’s a problem. Ma’am, is this man threatening you?”
I realized what it must look like from the security guard’s perspective. “No,” I said. “I’m okay.”
For a moment, there was just the sound of the alarm. Then the guard’s voice came back on, tight and authoritative. “Sir, you need to put the elevator in motion.”
“In a damn minute,” Evan said. “Turn off the fucking alarm.”
“Sir—” But Evan just reached over and flipped the switch that controlled the intercom.
A moment later, the alarm quit howling. Then the elevator started moving again, and I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or amused.
I settled on amused. “Guess they have an override button,” I said, unable to help my grin.
“Fuck it,” Evan said, and although I couldn’t be certain, I thought he was biting back a grin, too.
The display showed that we were passing the thirty-second floor. Evan reached over and pressed the button for thirty. A moment later, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. I didn’t have a clue what he was doing, at least not until he took my arm and tugged me out of the car with him.
The elevator bank was empty, bordered on the left by the glass doors of a law firm and on the right by solid wooden doors with tiny gold letters. Presumably a small business. Neither place looked busy today.
“We’re going to talk,” Evan said. “Without building security listening in, and without sound effects.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I figured that out on my own.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “So talk.”
“I want to know why he left it to you.”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. I saw your face.”
Since I couldn’t argue with that, I shifted course. “Why do you care, anyway?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m sure Jahn had his, too.” I dragged a hand through my hair, which was a mistake, as it reminded me of how grungy I felt. Which was not a happy thought considering Evan was standing right there looking, as always, as sexy as sin.
“You know what?” I finally said. “It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. And as far as I can tell, you’re gone, too.” I cocked my head as if just remembering something. “Oh, did I say gone? Not really the best choice of words, since you shouldn’t have even been in my life in the first place. After all, it was just one big mistake. Right?”
He said nothing, but I saw the way his jaw tightened, as if he were digging in, preparing to stand his ground.
I felt tears prick my eyes and hated myself for it. “Damn you, Evan Black.” I leaned over to push the elevator call button, but he grabbed my hand, stopping me.
I looked down at where he held my wrist. “Careful, I might break.” I met his eyes. “That’s what you think I am, right? Some fragile porcelain princess? That you’d shock me with all those things you said? That you’d break me if we went too far?”
“Angie.” The regret in his voice curled through me, and I clutched tighter to my anger, holding it close to give me strength.
“No, don’t even. You saw the way I melted down, and after you went too far comforting me, you ran for your goddamn life. Well, you know what, Evan, you’re an idiot. You can’t break me. I’m already broken.” What I didn’t say was that I was afraid that he was the only one who could put me back together. He was certainly the only one who’d ever made me feel whole.
“You think I see you as fragile? You think I don’t want you? Do you have any idea how hard it was to sit in that room just now and not touch you? It was hard enough before the other night, but Jesus, to come as close as we did, and then back it off? It’s like trying to turn the goddamn Titanic, and I feel like I’ve crashed into a fucking iceberg.”
I gaped at him, my heard pounding, my skin prickling. He was saying things I thought I wanted to hear, but I was afraid to hope, and so I only stood there, silently begging him to continue.
“Do you want to hear me say that I look at you and I go weak? That I want to taste you and touch you? That I want to break you and see you shatter beneath me? Dammit, Angie, is that what you want to hear?”
Yes, dear God, yes.
I was screaming the words inside my head, but outside I was too shocked, too amazed, too damn aroused to say anything at all. It didn’t matter. As always, Evan understood me.
His face softened, the vibrancy fading to a passionate glow. “I’m telling you now, because we both need to hear it. I want you, Angelina. I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you. Wanted your fire, and that haunted look in your eyes. Wanted you to look at me the way that you do. For years, I’ve wanted to lose myself in you. Wanted to break you open and see the woman inside.”
“You could,” I whispered, though I’m not sure how I managed to find my voice. “I think you’re the only one who could shatter me.”
“Maybe.” He reached out as if to touch me, but his hand only stroked the air above my skin, as if he was warming himself in my heat, or as if he was afraid that if he lowered his hand those few millimeters to actually make contact, that we would both burst into flames right then.
He may not have touched me, but he might as well have, and when he pulled his hand away, I heard myself whimper.
Slowly, he thrust his hands into his pockets. “I can live with the things I’ve done,” he said. “After all, I can’t be anyone other than the man I am—the man walking the path I made. But we all have a code, baby. And how can I break my own code and still live with myself?”
I realized I was shaking my head in protest. “Fuck your code,” I said, but I spoke gently, my tone in sharp contrast to my words. And then, emboldened, I leaned forward and brushed my lips over his mouth.
I heard his moan. I felt his hands close over my shoulders. I felt the hard knot of passion growing in my belly, the sweet tingling sensation growing between my thighs.
And then, more keenly, I felt him gently push me away.
“Don’t do this,” he said. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Maybe I want to tempt you.”
“I’m not the man you want.”
“You are,” I said earnestly.
“Maybe. But I’m not the man you need.”
I flinched, because he was so very wrong. He just might be the only man I need.
“How do you know what I need?” I demanded. “Because you made a promise to a dead man?”
