Cara had never known silence could feel so dangerous.
She stood in the dimly lit room, her robe hanging open, lips swollen from Blake’s kiss, thighs slick from what they’d almost done—and what they still might do.
But her gaze stayed locked on the black screen where Damian’s battered face had vanished.
“What the hell was that?” she hissed, pulling her robe tighter around her body. “You said he was safe.”
Blake didn’t flinch. His jaw tightened as he grabbed a nearby glass of whiskey and downed it in one swallow.
“That wasn’t part of the plan,” he muttered.
“What plan?!” she snapped. “You lured me here, played mind games with me—got into my head, my body—and now you’re telling me this wasn’t supposed to happen?”
Blake turned to her slowly, eyes dark.
“I wanted you to wake up, Cara. Y
