“No. You wouldn’t lock me away. From the sound of it, you’d just pop in and out of my life like you have been, coming and going whenever you please, getting your rocks off and vanishing to who knows where until the next time you decide you’re horny, all under the guise of keeping me safe from the cops.”
He’s getting angry. I can see it in the way he’s clenching his jaw. In the way his breathing has changed. In the death grip he’s got on the steering wheel.
His voice gravelly, he says, “It’s not a guise. It’s the f*****g truth.”
“Even if I believed you, Kage, why should I want this for myself? Why should I want any of this?”
He snaps, “I won’t try to argue you into it. Either you want me or you don’t.”
“Of course I want you! I want you like I’ve never wanted anything! But don’t you think I’ve already been through enough? You think I should put my heart on the line again when you’ve flat out told me who and what you are and what the limits of this relationship would be?”
“No!” he roars. “I don’t! Which is exactly what I’m f*****g saying!”
He careens around another corner. We narrowly miss killing a pedestrian in the crosswalk.
A few minutes later, we screech to a stop in my driveway. Before he can say another word, I’m out of the car, hustling toward the front door.
When I open it, he barges right through behind me. When he slams the door shut, Mojo lifts his head from where he’s lying in the middle of the living room floor, makes a half-hearted woof, then goes back to sleep.
I swear, if I were ever robbed, that dog would usher the robbers right in and show them where my jewelry is.
“Don’t walk away from me.”
Kage grabs my arm and spins me around to face him.
“Don’t manhandle me.”
“You know I’d never put my hands on you in anger.”
“Really? Because your hands are on me right now, and you’re angry.”
He drags me against his chest, closes his eyes, and draws a breath. When he exhales, he says through a clenched jaw, “Goddammit, woman. Stop. The. Sass.”
“Why, are you going to take me over your knee if I don’t?”
His eyes snap open. His nostrils flare. His lips thin, and holy hell, he’s hot when he’s mad.
Eyes narrowed, he growls, “Try me and find out.”
Looking into his eyes, I say deliberately, “I do not give you permission to s***k me.”
I’m sure for anyone else, that animal sound rumbling through his chest would be terrifying. For me, it’s perversely satisfying.
Because no matter how scary he looks or sounds, I know I’m not in danger. He’d die before he’d ever hurt me.
Realizing that, my temper softens.
I lower my lashes and whisper, “Yet.”
He’s frozen for all of two seconds, then he fists a hand into my hair and takes my mouth.
We stand in the middle of the room, kissing passionately, until he breaks away, breathing hard.
“Tell me to go now, or I’ll assume you want me to stay. And if I stay, you’ll never get rid of me.”
Clutching the front of his shirt, I laugh. “The whole world is black or white for you, isn’t it? You’re all in or nothing.”
“I don’t believe in halfway. Halfway is for cowards.”
He’s definitely not a coward, I’ll give him that.
He kisses me again, this time holding my head firmly in his hands, one at the scruff of my neck and one wrapped around my jaw. His tongue delves deeply into my mouth, demanding more, making me shiver with excitement.
Damn, I wish he wasn’t such a good kisser. He’s crossing all the wires in my brain.
This time, I break away first. “How often would I see you?”
He stills.
He knows what I’m asking.
Knows that no matter how impossible and ridiculous this whole situation is, I’m closer to a yes than a no.
Moistening his lips, gripping my head in his hands, he says gruffly, “A few times a month. For a few days at a time, if I can manage it.”
Oh god. That’s barely any time at all.
“And you’d only come here? I could never go to where you live?”
“Never,” he repeats, his voice stony. “We can’t take that risk.”
Risk?
It sounds like there’s something more to it than just him trying to keep me safe from his lifestyle. I mean, mafia men must have families. They must have wives and girlfriends. At least in the movies they do.
So why couldn’t he?
“You’d have a whole other life I know nothing about.”
“Yes. That’s the point. That’s the only way to keep you safe.”
“But…how do I know you don’t have other women?”
“Because I’m giving you my word that I don’t. And I won’t. I never will. If you tell me you’re mine, you’ll be the only woman for me. Forever.”
He’s so serious, staring at me so hard with this unblinking intensity, saying all these words like they’re nothing at all. Making all these crazy promises like he actually means it.
Because he does actually mean it.
David was never like this.
It’s a terrible time to think of him, but a memory pops into my mind of the day David and I went engagement ring shopping.
I knew he was going to propose. There were never any surprises with him. Every move he made was methodical, planned far in advance, plotted out precisely on an Excel spreadsheet. He never took unnecessary risks. He never made rash decisions. He never allowed himself to be carried away with his emotions, even when we made love.
That was planned in advance, too.