Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)

by Tessa Bailey

  His facade shifted, but quickly snapped back into place when he shrugged. “Keep your friends close.”

  “And your enemies closer?”

  Austin’s response was to sip his tea, narrowing his eyes at her over the rim.

  …

  Rather unfortunate timing, being interrupted before he could finish himself. Austin swallowed a scalding sip of tea, praying the pain would prevent him from tossing Polly over his shoulder and hauling her into his bedroom. Her upturned nipples were outlined by the thin T-shirt she wore, all but screaming, suck me, Austin. And if she rubbed her damp palms against the outside of her thighs one more time, telling him her hormones were still singing as loudly as his own, he would give in with a heartfelt curse and complete his orgasm while she watched. Right in the kitchen, like a horny choirboy. Honestly, he’d never been hard up for sex in his life, and it was goddamn inconvenient when he needed to keep a sharp mind.

  He watched Polly purse her plump lips, blowing on the surface of her tea in slow motion, giving him no choice but to adjust his groin, lest he reveal his desperation. Under no circumstances could he let Polly know how little control he possessed when it came to her. In a million years, he never would have anticipated her considering an exchange of sex for information. A rare miscalculation on his part. He’d managed to tear himself away before making a severe misstep, but if she so much as sighed against his skin just then, he would be on her like an animal.

  “Shouldn’t a negotiation take place at a table?”

  Austin shrugged. “I’ve never been in one place long enough to procure furniture.”

  “Not even a—”

  “Bed? Yes.” He held her eyes. “I have one of those.”

  She smirked. “I was going to say laundry basket.”

  “Sure you were.” Austin clasped his hands around the mug, welcoming the sting of heat. “I’d like to know what you have against the man you intend to ruin.”

  A beat of silence passed. “Don’t you know his name?”

  “He goes by more than one. I’d hazard a guess he has over thirty identities, and that’s a modest estimation.”

  Her gaze dropped from his, perusing the kitchen. “I’m not telling you anything until you explain what exactly we’re negotiating.”

  “I want an active role in helping you.” His gut tightened when her attention snapped back to his. “My nature doesn’t allow me to remain in the background, feeding you helpful tidbits and leaving the outcome to chance. Not where you’re concerned.”

  “My nature doesn’t allow me to involve someone like you in my private business. This is my show and I don’t need a costar.”

  He zeroed in on the most troublesome part of her statement, although he didn’t know why he should be surprised at her disdain. She’d never made a secret of it. Perhaps the fact that he’d had his tongue in her mouth on two separate occasions within twenty-four hours played a part. “Someone like me?”

  “Yes.” She crossed the kitchen to look out the window, although the view was only a brick wall. “You’re too much of a variable, Austin. Always working an angle, looking for a way to manipulate a situation to your advantage. Manipulate me. How do I know you won’t decide to join forces with…with this former acquaintance of yours, and play me instead?”

  “I never said he was an acquaintance. I said I knew of him.” Her jerky shoulder roll told him she’d been trying to catch him in a lie. Good. He would expect nothing less. “I assure you, my assistance will leave no doubt as to where my loyalties lie. If you feel different at any point, you can cut me out.”

  “Generous of you,” she murmured, drumming her fingers against the side of her thigh. “You have to know accepting help from you won’t be easy for me.”

  “Oh, I’ve thought of that.” He spread his hands. “I think of everything, you see. Give me the barest detail of your vendetta against this man and I’ll share how I plan to reward you for trusting me.”

  “Reward me?” She threw one of those amazing laughs at the ceiling. “God, I’m going to regret this, but I’m too curious to pass up that undoubted gem.”

  A smile threatened at the corners of his mouth, but he contained it. “I’m waiting.”

  Polly paced silently a moment. “The man at the club last night.” She brushed her hair back with a trembling hand. “He took away someone very important to me.”

  The onslaught of rage took Austin off guard. He didn’t do rage. His keel stayed even, steady, through good times and shit times. But somehow knowing Polly had been wronged by his ex-partner in a truly despicable way made him want to bury his fists into the Sheetrock walls of his flat. Although he suspected it wouldn’t help a whit. Austin took a long, slow breath through his nose, attempting to find purchase before speaking. “Who did he take away? How?”

  She shook her head. “You said the barest detail.”

  Austin ground his teeth together. “Fine.” He probably shouldn’t go near her while white-hot ire infused his blood—he’d never experienced the feeling before, but suspected it would make him prone to mistakes. Or revealing too much. Even that hint of her pain, however, had brought vulnerability rising to her surface, and it magnetized him. Made him long to ease whatever jagged edges had been left behind by the evil man he’d spent so many years learning from. See if his own rough edges corresponded with hers. They did. He knew they did. “Would you like to hear about your reward now?”

  Even his voice sounded unnatural. If her sharp intake of breath was any indication, she’d noticed. Noticed the change he felt taking place in himself. Before he registered the movements of his own feet, Austin was across the kitchen, stopping less than a foot from Polly, soaking in her body heat with greediness he didn’t bother to conceal.

  “Y-yes.” She attempted sarcasm, but he didn’t buy it. The awareness in her gaze as it strayed to his mouth gave her away. “I’m dying to hear what you could give me that I’d consider a reward.”

  Fuck it all, too many secrets fought for precedence in his brain. Untruths. This one thing, this bloody attraction to her—he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Slow seduction hadn’t worked. She was too headstrong. Too stubborn and cemented in her convictions. Which is why his casting aside of pride momentarily—in the name of greater glory—had to be done. She needed to call the shots? He would let her. Hell, his body had given him every indication that he would even enjoy it immensely.

  The only one who saw right through him was Polly. She didn’t let him get away with his transgressions. Didn’t give in to his charm. There was something deliciously tempting about baring his guilt over the past to Polly without admitting it out loud. She felt the need to punish. And he needed to be called to the floor for his actions. Exhilaration followed on the heels of admitting it to himself.

  Austin breathed deeply of her citrus scent and closed his eyes. “I’m aware that taking assistance from me will be a hardship for you. Until now, we’ve had an even balance of power, but I tipped the scales in my favor last night by inserting myself into your operation without consent.” He reached out and gripped her right hip, brushing his thumb across the exposed swath of skin above her waistband. When her quickened breathing told Austin she wouldn’t pull away, he tightened his hold and yanked her body against his. “My intent is to balance the scales once again by having a physical relationship with you, Polly.” He sucked his bottom lip through his teeth. “Which is a weak description for wanting to ring your tight, sexy bell so loud they’ll hear it in Russia.”

  She didn’t manage to contain a whimper, and he memorized the sound like a covetous bastard. “I don’t…I don’t see how that balances the scales.”

  The moment of truth had arrived, and he couldn’t let the opportunity pass now that he’d glimpsed a sliver of clarity. Focusing on her brown eyes a moment, he ignored the innate urge to hide anything that could be considered a flaw—an urge he’d been indulging so damn long—and laid his cards down on the table.

  “You’ll have control o
ver what we do together.”

  Polly swayed toward him, appearing dumbstruck by what he’d offered. No taking it back now. For someone who orchestrated the outcome of every situation, handing over the reins to another wasn’t easy, but seeing her pupils dilate, feel her pulse kick with excitement, told him this was right. It was right to want what she needed. And damn, nothing compared to having her parted lips so close, her tits grazing his chest. Austin massaged her waist in slow circles, slipping closer toward her navel with each lap.

  “Every encounter. On your terms. I want to be…directed by you. I want you to demand I satisfy your body, in any and every way you decide.”

  As he spoke, passion glazed Polly’s eyes, but it was tempered by uncertainty. “Are you making fun of me, because of last night…what I did…”

  “What you did,” Austin repeated, his thumb dipping into her belly button and sliding down, where his fingers toyed with the button of her pants. “Shoving my shirt into my mouth and perusing my body like it was for sale?” The already-scorching heat between them turned blistering. He’d never seen her eyelids flutter before, and the involuntary show of want had Austin dropping a bit more of his armor. “I…liked that treatment from you. I want more of it.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, her breath hitching as he unsnapped the button of her jeans. “More. More…now?”

  Austin gave a single nod, noting the color climbing her neck, wondering if she turned red elsewhere. Impatient to find out. Watching her closely for a reaction, he let his index finger trace the elastic of her underwear, but when he tried to breach the silk barrier, she gripped his wrist to stay him. Time suspended itself as they breathed into each other’s space. “Do you need me to humble myself further, Polly?”

  Her swallow was audible. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Very well.” He clutched her panties in a turned fist and leaned down to speak just above her ear. “This is a rare instance where I’m not 100 percent sure what I’m doing. It might even be the first time in my life. I only know that when I think of you mistreating me, then making up for it rather vigorously, my cock gets stiff in a way that demands we fuck until our bodies give out. Is it still unclear what I’m asking?”

  “No.” He could hear the creak of denim as she squeezed her thighs together. “I’m accepting help from a man I don’t trust. And in exchange I—” She broke off with a head shake. “How did…how do you know I even want to mistreat you?”

  “Don’t you, sweet? I saw you last night.” He trailed his lips down her neck and back up. “You’ll have free rein to neglect me. Strap me to a chair and give me a naughty striptease until I’m begging. Give me a hand job beneath the table in a restaurant and leave me on the verge of coming. Make me crazy. Make me pay for everything I’ve done. Everything you hate.” He nipped at her earlobe. “Or simply prop your sweet arse up in the air and ask for a rough bang. I’ll peel those little low-rider panties down to your ankles and orgasm you until you can’t go anymore. I’ll keep myself hard until you’ve finished on me—again and again—and I’m dripping with the evidence.”

  “Stop. Stop talking.” Polly’s belly shuddered almost violently against his palm. “Jesus. I have to think. I can’t think when you’re—”

  For once in his life, Austin didn’t think. He shot forward and cut Polly off with his mouth. Not kissing her, but keeping their lips interlocked. One joint breath. Two. If she needed a push, he’d give her one. “You sound like a coward.”

  She slapped him across the face. The bite of her palm echoed below his belt, making his erection bulge against his fly. Goddamn. The disapproval in her expression was fleeting before it transformed into shock, but something in him had already been germinated. His cheek throbbed in time with a telltale erotic pulse.

  Polly looked down at her hand and started to back away, but Austin followed. “Don’t. In this one thing, Polly, we’re not playing a game. Look what you do to me.”

  She pressed a fist to her mouth, closing her eyes for a beat. Then he let her hand drop and took a deep breath. “You’ll give me anything I need?”

  “Yes.”

  “Show me what’s in the locked room.”

  Chapter Seven

  Growing up, Polly had been an indoor kid. Once she’d been introduced to computers, her fathers hadn’t been able to tear her away. Still, like every high school student in America, she’d been forced to endure physical education class. Justin O’Malley had been a grade higher than her, but forced to retake the class due to numerous suspensions. He’d fixated on her from day one, needling her with derogatory nicknames, poking her in the ribs when the instructor’s back was turned. By the middle of the semester, his treatment had gotten so bad, Polly would get physically ill in the bathroom before class started.

  Common sense dictated she alert an administrator. She’d needed to. But that semester had been right on the heels of Charles Reitman divesting her fathers of their life savings. Adding to their already sky-high stress level had been out of the question. So she’d endured well past her breaking point, which had come during a game of capture the flag. He’d called her “pudding.” Polly still didn’t know why that nickname in particular caused her to see red, but it had, especially combined with him pinching her waist every time they passed on the field.

  As soon as she’d made the decision to put Justin in his place, calmness had settled over her like a woolen blanket. Having been given up for adoption as a young child by a mother she couldn’t remember, her own destiny never felt within her grasp. Until that moment, standing beneath an overcast sky in ratty gym shorts and tube socks. She’d waited for the perfect opportunity, right in the middle of a down, the football on the opposite side of the field distracting the instructor. Then she’d gone up behind him, grabbed Justin’s balls in a death grip, and twisted. As he’d writhed around on the ground in pain, she’d experienced a sense of exhilaration. There’d been nothing sexual about her triumph at the time, but her show of assertion had woken something up. Feelings that multiplied as she’d gotten older.

  Now, with her palm tingling from the force of the slap, with liberation pirouetting in her stomach, Polly acknowledged the truth. Her truth. She liked harnessing control. Austin’s glassy eyes and harsh breathing left no doubt he liked giving that control up to her, and months of attraction, months of trying to explain an unshakable connection, became all too easy to decipher.

  And she was petrified down to her bones. Austin Shaw was the last person on earth she wanted to feel an affinity toward. She didn’t want to feel anything but resentment and loathing for him. His chosen career. Unlike her, Austin didn’t work by a code, stealing only from those who’d earned the loss by being cheats or liars. Oh no. It had taken her all of ten minutes to hack into Chicago PD’s database and read his case file. With the exception of one encrypted file to which she was still working on gaining access, she’d read his record front to back, same as she’d done for all her squad mates. Austin’s was the worst by far, in the sense that his crimes lacked a conscience. He hadn’t been a victim of shitty circumstances like Bowen, Erin, or Connor. Hadn’t been bankrupted and poor like her. He’d created his own corrupt lifestyle and lived it to the fullest.

  Yet as he stood in front of her, hands curling into fists as if he wanted to reach out in her direction, she was tempted. More than tempted to explore the side of her he’d successfully goaded to life a moment ago. A moment she couldn’t snatch back. Was the chance to delve deeper into her secret desires worth working on the same side as Austin? A man who represented everything she’d spent years bringing down? For all intents and purposes, Austin was another Charles Reitman.

  Wasn’t he?

  There it was, a hairline fracture in her foundation. A moment ago, she’d wanted Austin to go on touching her forever, wanted to embrace the new self-awareness she sensed on the horizon, but she forced herself to step back. It was so much to take in and happening all too fast. She needed to breathe.

  Polly realized
her pants were still unbuttoned and quickly did them up. The jerky action caused the seam of her jeans to shift against her center, which had grown damp and needy. The gasp that fell from her lips had Austin stepping forward into her personal space. “Let. Me.”

  “No.” She staved him off with a trembling hand. “I meant what I said before. I need to think. Spontaneity isn’t really my jam.”

  “There’s nothing spontaneous about six months of wanting to fuck, Polly.”

  God, he was right. All roads had been leading to here; she just had to decide whether a U-turn was in order. “Show me what’s in the room.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I’d rather not.”

  “There can’t be secret rooms or parallel universes.” She swallowed hard, a little shocked that she was toeing the line that had always been so defined between them. “Not if you want the trust required to work together.”

  Austin’s expression didn’t waver, but the air changed around them. “You’re actually thinking about it.” He breathed a curse and dug a key from his pocket, tightening the jeans over his full erection with a wince. “We’ll see if that’s still the case in a few minutes.”

  His dire tone bred discomfort, but didn’t detract from her curiosity. When Austin turned on a heel and strode to the locked room, Polly followed, meeting his eyes briefly when the lock clicked open. With a stiff nod, he pushed open the door and stepped back to allow her entry. Polly bit back her nerves and passed over the threshold…and stopped, allowing her surroundings to register.

  Racks of clothes lined all four walls of the room, some of them in plastic, all of them spaced the precise amount of distance apart. Polly floated toward them in a trance, not sure if she should be relieved or twice as alarmed by what the room contained. Feeling intrusive, despite Austin’s permission, she went through the hanging garments. A police officer’s formal dress attire, a pilot’s uniform, complete with wing pin, a business suit that looked as though it cost a fortune. She stopped at the familiar black T-shirt and designer jeans, the outfit worn by her Russian from the previous evening. Recalling how the shirt had molded to Austin’s chest, biceps, and stomach, lust spiked in her belly.