Series: Penny Dee
Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
I get no response.
But I can feel her on the other side of the door.
“I’m not leaving until you open this door.” I try for a gentler tone, not at all accustomed to “softening” my edges. Especially with this woman who enjoys sparring with words and threatening me with scalpels and guns. But this woman on the other side, beneath the mask of Leonore, is all of those things and more.
I imagine her inside, staring at the closed door and weighing her options. She knows a closed door is not a deterrent for me.
But I decide to remind her.
“You know there is no stopping me from getting inside this apartment. So how about you save us both the headache and open the door before I take it off its hinges.”
I could have this door down in under ten seconds. But I would prefer she let me in because I want her to trust me. That thought stops me. Trust me?
The deadbolt slides, the handle turns, and when she opens the door, she looks feral, her mouth a sneer and her gaze haunted. My savage little creature is in fight or flight.
I look past her to scan her apartment, taking in the details to try to make sense of what is going on. She’s terrified, and I am here to find out why.
Two bags sit by the door. I look at them, then look at her.
“Going somewhere?” I ask.
“I’m just not that interested anymore.” She tries to casually shrug away, but it lacks in any of her wit or humor. It’s a pathetic attempt, and even she knows it. So she quickly adds, “Silas, please just go.”
It’s the sincerity of the request and the fracture of the mask that has me assessing her. She holds a fierce gaze, and she looks as if at any moment she’ll reach for the knife just so she gets her own way.
“No.” I curl a cruel smile.
Her gaze burns with rage. Good. At least she’s still fighting.
“Your fucking is hardly anything you think it is, so just move on.”
I step into her space, pressing her back to the kitchen counter. “You and I both know that’s a lie,” I sneer, but my cock grows thick even under the manic circumstances. I have no intention of taking her right now, not like this, but that’s what this woman does to me. She makes me crazy the moment I’m in her vicinity.
She goes to reach for the knife, but I’m quick to snatch her wrist. She shoves me, hard, but I don’t move. “Just leave me alone.” She tries to break out of my grasp like a caged animal gone feral, her hair a wild mess.
“I don’t have time for your stupid fucking games!” She screams as I pin a knee between her legs, pressing my body weight against her so she can’t struggle. Her gaze burns, even as she continues to try to do exactly that.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure her.
“You don’t understand,” she growls, baring teeth as she looks up at me.
“No, I don’t,” I say. “But I don’t need to understand anything right now. Pick up your bags.”
“What?”
“We’re leaving.”
Confusion knots her brow. “What do you mean?”
I hold her gaze. The instinct to interrogate her is strong. But the instinct to protect her is far more powerful.
That cements in my lower stomach. I know this woman is a liar, a thief of identity and more stubborn than any other person I’ve met. But I also know she’s mine, name be damned.
I intentionally soften my voice, which I have only ever used to fight fire with fire. But for her to see me, for her to hear me, she needs to lower her walls and stop viewing me as a threat. Because I know without a doubt, even when I discover who she really is, I won’t hurt her. And that might be my most dangerous undoing yet.
All I know is I won’t let anything or anyone hurt her.
“Sweetheart, I can see the fear in your eyes, and those packed bags tell me you don’t feel safe here anymore.” Her face twists in confusion and reluctance in the way I speak with her. “So any explanation can wait until I get you to where you will feel safe. Will you stop fighting me?”
All the fight seems to bleed from her, but I can tell her clever mind is still working, most likely used to fighting every battle on her own. I slowly lean away from her. She doesn’t make any sudden movement as I reach down and pick up the bags and hand one to her. “I’m taking you home with me. And then you’re going to tell me everything.”
She looks like she wants to fight, her gaze burning, but then I lift my hand to her face, and she flinches, as if waking up for the first time since I’ve stepped in, instead of her mind busily trying to race ten steps ahead. I push back a strand of her loose plum hair. “The only person you’re allowed to fight with is me, and I prefer it in the way of foreplay and in the bedroom. Anyone else who challenges you, I step in instead.”