All Things Pretty (Pretty #3)(23)
Author: M. Leighton

It’s too much–his mouth, his hands, his heat. When he thrusts another finger into me, I shiver once before the spasms of an orgasm start, the only orgasm I’ve ever experienced at the hands of someone else. Oh, I’ve gotten off before, a few times even in front of someone else. And I’ve faked them, too. Hundreds of times, probably. But never has someone else brought me here. And never, never has it felt like this.

My whole body burns and tingles, but in the most delicious way. I feel like I’m floating, high above the floor on which my feet are planted. I’m conscious only of feeling more satisfied than I’ve ever felt and of Sig’s sweet kisses as they draw ever closer to my mouth.

His fingers are still inside me, moving slowly, languorously, urging the waves to keep pouring over me. But for the pursing of my lips to stifle the noises that are poised at the back of my throat, I’m paralyzed, at his mercy. And happily so.

Until I remember where I am. And who waits just outside this small room.

When I can breathe again, I cup Sig’s face and bring his eyes level with mine. They’re as dark as I’ve ever seen them. Raw. Passionate. Possessive.

“You can’t be here. With me,” I huff. “Lance’ll kill you if he finds out.”

“I’d like to see him try.”

“Sig, you don’t know him. You can’t take risks like this.”

“I know the risk. And I can handle it. Besides, you’re worth it.”

“But what if he hurts you?”

Sig shrugs.

“So I’m worth it? Even if it hurts?”

“Especially if it hurts.”

I can see by his expression that my words do nothing to deter him. It’s written all over his face that he wants to rescue me. Which is why I have to rescue him. “Please, Sig. You have to go.”

His eyebrows draw into a frown. “I’m not worried about Lance and I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I can take care of myself.”

“It sure doesn’t look like it to me. What the hell are you doing with him?”

There’s angry judgment in his eyes. He just doesn’t understand. No one does.

I shut down. I can feel it. Withdraw into the only safety I know–solitude. “I have my reasons.” I look down at the floor, avoiding his eyes.

“And they are?”

“None of your business.”

“Don’t do that,” he says softly, smoothing my hair away from neck and laying his palm against my pulse.

“Do what?”

“Shut me out. I want to help you.”

“You can’t.”

“Maybe I can. And there’s only one way to find out.”

At that, I glance back up into his face, into his warm cocoa eyes. “Trust you, right?”

“Yes. Why is that so hard?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I might if you’d let me in.”

“I’m sorry, Sig. I just…I just…I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“Is there a difference?”

“There’s a big difference.”

“Then take your pick. Neither one changes the facts.” I take a deep breath and press my hand to the center of his chest, gently pushing back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back. Before I get you hurt.”

“You won’t get me hurt. You didn’t ask me to come here. You didn’t make me seek you out.”

I pause, the warmth of his body heating the skin of my hand, all the way through to my bones, it seems. “Why did you? Seek me out, I mean.”

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” His words feel like a slap to the face, after what just happened between us. My solitary shell, the dark, safe place in which I hide, holds even more appeal now. Until he speaks again. “That’s what I should say, but it would be a lie.”

“A-and what would be the truth?”

“That I can’t stop thinking about you. That I can’t stand the thought of him touching you, of him making you do things for him, for his pleasure. The only hands that should ever be against your body are these,” he says, holding up his hands. “Mine.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Part of me thrills at what he’s implying–that he cares about me. But a bigger part of me shies away, distrustful as always.

“Try not to think about it. That’s what I do.”

His brow furrows again and I know I’ve said too much. I can’t admit to things like that. “Then why do it?” I say nothing, simply hold his puzzled stare. “None of my business, right?”

I see his frustration mount, and he steps back and runs his hands through his messy, dark blond hair. The action draws my eye and my palms tingle with the remembered feel of the silky strands tickling them as his fingers invaded my body.

“I won’t give up,” he states flatly, determined.

“I wish you would.”

“Do you? Do you really? Don’t you want someone to help you? To save you? To rescue you?”

“Some people can’t be saved.”

“But you’re not one of those people. I refuse to believe that.”

“I-I have to go,” I tell him again, moving slowly past him, my arms crossed over my chest. Somehow, although the temperature hasn’t changed, I feel frozen in my nudity. Vulnerable. Miserable.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I don’t turn to look at him; I only nod as I carefully open the door and slip out into the empty hall.

Stopping just outside the doorway, almost exactly where Sig was standing, I straighten my spine, square my shoulders. I quickly remind myself of the reasons, of the whys and the musts, then I plaster a demure smile on my face and I go back in to face the music. At least for a little while longer.

CHAPTER TWENTY- SIG

I haven’t spoken to anyone since last night when I stormed back through the club and told Barber I was leaving. I gave him no explanation, didn’t feel like I owed him one. And to hell with him if he didn’t like it. He won’t have to tell me how and when to do my job. I’ll keep my eyes on Tommi until I can take down Tonin and set her free. She has been drawn inexplicably into my mission, even if the department has no idea the degree to which she is involved in my plan. Serve and protect–that’s what we do. That’s what I do. And Tommi needs protecting, whether she’ll admit it or not.