Where Loyalties Lie

28

A normal man would have seen my anger and backed down—offered apologies and fed me banal platitudes—but not Tamir. He wasn’t just a man; he was a predator. With the prowess of a jungle cat, he stalked toward me and invaded my personal space, denying me free thought with his intoxicating presence. When he was close enough that I could breathe in the masculine scent of his skin, he clasped his large hand under my chin and lifted my face to his. “You are too fine a work of art to degrade. Would it be degrading to praise a fox for its ability to hunt? You’re just as clever and far more beautiful, and you have the survival instincts to match the most majestic of creatures.” His lips seized mine, possessing me with unabashed hunger. The offense I’d felt seconds before disintegrated beneath the crushing desire he stirred inside me. I willfully surrendered to the electric current that sparked so fiercely between us. His velvet tongue danced around mine, licking me and drawing me further into his thrall. When I followed his lead and lost myself to the rhythm, a guttural rumble vibrated up from his chest and stole my remaining breath. I could feel his control slipping, and that knowledge was the headiest aphrodisiac imaginable. His hands wandered my body while his kisses devoured me until I had to pull away to fill my burning lungs with air. Both our chests rose and fell in a chaotic struggle for control, drawing my eyes down to the broad expanse of his pectorals. My hand rose unbidden, drawn to the contours of the masculine body hinted at beneath his shirt. Needing to feel the dips and valleys for myself, I slipped my hand beneath his shirt, mapping out the sheer perfection of his body as if committing it to memory. In a flash, he swept the shirt up and over his head, treating me to an unobstructed view of his perfect torso. He was breathtaking. Even his scars added to his perfection. “It should be impossible for something so deadly to be so beautiful,” I mused, feeling his smattering of hair beneath my fingers as they explored his chest. “And what about you?” he murmured, reaching for the elastic band in my hair and freeing my long dark locks. “Doesn’t that apply to you as well?” I shook my hair, allowing it to cascade around my shoulders. “I think you give me too much credit.” “Then what about our toast to dirty little secrets?” “Dirty, not deadly,” I whispered, peering up into his midnight eyes. They’d been lit with passion before but suddenly appeared shuttered and closed off. It was the reality check I needed to remind me that I was playing with fire. “You don’t have to be deadly to be dangerous.” “I’ve never hurt anyone in my life.” He lowered his lips to my ear, causing my heart to catch. “Then why the secrets? Secrets are born out of shame. If you’ve never hurt anyone, what is there to be ashamed of?” His words were a knife straight into my gut, stirring up a wave of selfloathing that pressed against my chest and squeezed my throat. I could do nothing but gulp down the tears that burned at the back of my eyes. “Sometimes, the pain we cause is circumstantial and unintentional, but that doesn’t erase the guilt.” I maneuvered past him and walked out the door, slamming it behind me. I needed space from Tamir and his presumptive accusations. I would have found it hard to keep my emotions in check had my liver not been swimming in alcohol. As it was, I felt swept away in a flood of remorse, fear, and anger. What had he been trying to accomplish by prodding me like he had? Did he think I was going to confess some great crime I’d committed? I wasn’t sure how our sensual exploration had devolved so quickly, but after our exchange, I desperately needed space from him. Thank God he didn’t come after me. I didn’t know what I’d have said if he did. I took the time he’d given me to sober up and clear my muddled thoughts as I walked the streets of downtown Columbus. Maybe by the time I was ready to go back, I’d have the tiniest clue about how I was going to get away.

Chapter 13 Tamir I had to admit, Emily could hold her own when it came to tequila, but there was no way she could go drink for drink with a man almost twice her weight. I wasn’t sure she was even aware, but Spanish words began to infiltrate her sentences, giving her speech a seductive cadence. She wasn’t the only one who had been overly ambitious. I never stood a chance against the tipsy version of the Latin siren. She was alluring on a normal day, but after we had downed the better part of a bottle of tequila, she was a f*****g goddess. She owned her sexuality and basked in it without even trying. Her confidence was unusual because it was so natural. She didn’t flaunt herself. She didn’t have to, just like a diamond would easily outshine a mountain of glitter. She was refreshing. More than that, she was intoxicating, and it had nothing to do with the tequila. I respected her, or what I knew of her so far, which was why I’d pushed her like I had. She hadn’t taken the pressure well, but that was often the case. People got angry and defensive when faced with a truth they were reticent to admit. Once the emotion had processed through her system, along with the alcohol, maybe we’d have a real chance to get some answers. She took more time than I had expected, but I never doubted her return. Everything she owned was here in the room. It gave me the perfect opportunity to go through her things and see what I could learn. Everything about our meetup earlier had felt off. She was lying about something, and I was done with waiting patiently for her to be forthright. Whether it was the tequila or the way her body softened against mine, something had allowed me to realize how frustrated I was at her reluctance to let me in. It was hypocritical. I knew that well enough. What gave me the right to be upset if she was keeping secrets? I had plenty of my own. In fact, there was a good reason for her not to trust me.