Blood Deep (Blackthorn Book 4)

by Lindsay J. Pryor

  He accepted the cue off her, purposely cupping his hand over hers as he did so.

  Contrary to her wariness in her bedroom, she didn’t flinch, her cool, feminine hand remaining willingly locked under his for a moment as she reciprocated his lingering gaze. He felt his groin tighten at her subtle confidence. Even when she finally dragged her gaze away, it wasn’t because she was intimidated into it, but because she wanted him to know she was the one in control.

  He handed her a bottle in return and she accepted it off him. She strolled towards the end of the table, Eden enjoying another glimpse of her shapely behind, the inward curve to her slender waist, the enticing gap between her thighs at the hem of her cardigan.

  He knocked back a mouthful of beer, but she opted to leave hers untouched on the side of the table. She was nobody’s fool and that was becoming increasingly obvious.

  He placed his bottle next to hers before he leaned over to align his shot, working out how to avoid the damaged spots in the fabric. ‘Do you use this place a lot?’

  ‘Some weeks more than others,’ she said, leaning her hip against the table.

  He pocketed his first, the cue ball returning so he could line up his next shot. The second caught the bumps in the fabric where the cover had once been torn, so he handed the cue across to Jessie.

  She bent over, lining up her shot, her cardigan sliding down her shoulder and revealing more of the silky chemise beneath. Despite being partially masked by her dark ringlets pooling on the table, he could see she was braless beneath it. She slid the cue back smoothly between her long and elegant spread fingers before tapping the white ball, pocketing its recipient with precision. For her next shot she moved alongside him.

  As she bent over again, this time revealing at least five inches of the bare backs of those shapely upper thighs, he felt himself stiffen. But it was the way she simultaneously flexed her fingers around the shaft of the cue before holding it more tightly that made him wonder if maybe she was a little more proficient in seduction than he had given her credit for.

  ‘You play well,’ he said.

  She shrugged. ‘Not as well as you.’

  ‘I’ve been playing since I was kid. I grew up around bars.’

  After missing her shot, she reached for one of the beers. ‘Where are you from?’ But instead of taking hers, she drank from his – the one she’d already seen him take a few mouthfuls from.

  He crouched to check out his next alignment. ‘Just so you know, I’m not a Rohypnol kind of guy.’ Now having worked out where all the weaknesses on the table were, he pocketed another ball.

  ‘Then what kind of guy are you?’

  ‘Why did you really invite down here?’

  ‘Because you can’t take a hint.’

  ‘And neither can you seemingly.’ He stood upright, turned ninety degrees to face her square-on. Having her less than a foot away again fired every nerve ending. But he kept his control as he gazed down into eyes that were three inches short of being eye level with his. ‘I told you I’m not your enemy. But I guess I wouldn’t trust me either if I were you,’ he said, with a small shrug.

  He moved around the table and bent over to take his next shot to ease the escalating tension. ‘If I were you,’ he added, ‘I’d bring me down here, find somewhere to tie me up and make me talk. The problem is, you’re not the torturing type, are you, Jessie? I’m also guessing you’re smart enough to know it wouldn’t get you anywhere; that you’d be left with only two options if you failed – let a very angry con go or kill me. But, aside from me being persistent in wanting your attention, we both know I’ve done nothing to warrant being murdered. In fact, I’m thinking you quite like having someone to talk to instead of just being a ghost around here.’ He handed her the cue across the table after he’d sent the cue ball rebounding back to his side. ‘Your shot.’

  She let her unreadable gaze linger on his before she strolled around towards him. ‘You seem very sure you have me worked out. Yet you saw me kill those other cons. You know what I’m capable of.’

  ‘You killed to protect. You saw them as the enemy. You’re not convinced that’s what I am though, are you?’

  She leaned over the table, seemingly unperturbed by his blatant admiration of her, the warm amber glow playing on the back of her smooth thighs again. ‘Is that your only lifeline?’

  ‘You’re not a cold-blooded killer, Jessie.’

  ‘Takes one to know one, huh?’

  ‘If I wanted to kill you, I would have. Or at least tried to.’

  Taking her shot, she stood back up, moved a little closer, rested her hip against the table again. ‘But, like me, you want information.’

  The amber tint of flames reflecting in those unflinching brown eyes reminded him he was dealing with more than just a woman – a female whose skills he still didn’t know the full extent of.

  A female who could potentially end it all there and then.

  ‘You can’t blame me for being curious,’ he said.

  ‘And you can’t blame me for wanting to know who you are. Because my problem is,’ she said, closing the gap between them a little more, ‘those numbers tell me you’re more than capable of torture and killing, so excuse me not letting my guard down just yet.’

  ‘I’d think less of you if you did. But like I said, if I wanted to hurt you, I would have.’

  ‘The only time you’ve had the opportunity, you weren’t exactly up to the job.’

  ‘But we both know I am now.’

  She turned the cue around so the butt was facing him. She guided it to the hem of his T-shirt, sliding it up to reveal his stomach, his side. ‘So it seems. You’ve healed well already,’ she said, glancing into his eyes. She rubbed the butt over the scar tissue. ‘It’s coming along nicely.’

  ‘Just like you said it would. So tell me, why would I kill you, Jessie? What would be the sense and purpose in it? I’m more than the numbers on my arm. And as we both know, neither wants to kill the other. That’s one step in the right direction, surely?’

  ‘You think so? Then tell me why you’re really here. Don’t make me force it out of you.’

  His laugh was light but deep as he took the cue back off her and pulled away. The thought of a tussle with her turned the blood in his groin molten; the temptation to rise to the challenge amidst her slight against his skills, let alone his masculinity, suppressed only by his need to tread carefully.

  ‘I can hurt you,’ she warned as he leaned over to take his next shot.

  He glanced up at her with a hint of a smile before he pocketed the ball. ‘Is that a promise?’

  ‘Is that how you prefer it?’

  ‘Is it how you prefer it? Because we can play as rough as you want,’ he said, lining up his next shot.

  ‘I know the powers that be have taken away the true purpose behind what you contain in your jeans, but I can just as easily take away the pleasure elements too.’

  He raised his eyebrows slightly. ‘More castration threats? You’ve got to ease up on this obsession with my balls, darling. People will talk.’

  ‘If you tell me, I’ll think about letting you go.’

  ‘Think about it?’ He pocketed another ball before standing, making his way around the periphery of the table towards her.

  ‘I told you – a few more hours and everything in your system will be gone. There will be no evidence that I had anything to do with you at all, which will put me in the clear. Because you’re not stupid enough to claim anything to the contrary to Pummel.’

  ‘But if I don’t tell you anything?’

  ‘Pummel wants that list of items by dusk,’ she said, with a small shrug. ‘I overheard. And when Pummel tells you to do something, he expects it done. So if you don’t show up on time, or you don’t get him everything he wants, you’re finished here anyway. The next time he sees you, he’ll kill you without hesitation. If I don’t kill you before it gets to that.’

  Despite being irked by her clever move, he gave her a hin
t of a smile as he took the fresh bottle from the table. ‘Oh, you’re a smart girl, aren’t you?’

  ‘It’s called checkmate. You ignored my advice. One way or another, this ends in the next few hours.’

  He glanced at the padlocked door, raked her swiftly with his gaze as he moved to stand in front of her, Jessie turning her back to the pool table so that her eyes didn’t flinch from his. ‘I guess it’s too much to expect those padlock keys to be on you?’

  It was her turn to flash him a hint of a smile. She gave another small shrug before she leaned back against the pool table, her cardigan slipping down her shoulder a little more as she braced her arms. ‘You can check if you like.’

  Pulse racing at the prospect, he took a mouthful of beer, lowered his bottle to his side. ‘If you’re going to start playing sex games with me, you need to stretch that imagination a little more.’

  Her reciprocal gaze was painfully steady. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my imagination.’

  ‘Really? Looks to me like you’re treading water in the shallow end. Let’s do a comparison once we’ve finished, shall we?’

  She bit into her bottom lip, raked her gaze slowly over him, didn’t bother to adjust her cardigan as it slid down her shoulder a little further, down her breast, revealing the hardness of her nipple through the thin layer of silk. ‘Sounds promising,’ she said, looking back into his eyes.

  And suddenly too much made sense.

  * * *

  Jessie’s pulse kicked up a notch, the look in his eyes sending a flush of heat deep below her belly button. Because, unfortunately, just sharing his company, even that short time, was better than being alone, being a ghost, just as he’d said. And it wasn’t helped by knowing he’d barely taken his eyes off her since entering the room, let alone having felt his gaze burn into her as she’d bent forward over the table – a heat that contrasted with the cool air caressing her inner thighs.

  The thrill was as intoxicating as the male it oozed from. Because as those dark eyes fixed on hers, she knew that was how it felt to be alive. In a place where everything had become predictable, where the bubble that surrounded her had become stifling, this reminded her of how being free felt. For the first time ever, she sensed the flip side to danger and just how compelling that toxin could be. For the first time ever, she saw and understood how sexual desire could be nothing to do with love and everything to do with that carefree, mindless, self-sating moment. And it felt good. It felt enticing. And exciting. Just as finding him had been exciting – like unearthing something precious, something that was hers, her secret that she could keep stashed away. Something Pummel didn’t know about, something he couldn’t take from her like he took everything else. Except he would, because Pummel always took everything.

  Which was why saving Eden had been as much about flipping the middle finger of defiance at Pummel as feeling like the right thing to do. And she couldn’t deny the attraction, the longing she’d felt as she’d lifted his T-shirt to not only tend his wound but to examine and admire the unconscious male laying beneath her. Her gaze would never have lingered on his belt buckle otherwise, the temptation to look at what else he had to offer.

  The way Eden looked at her right then, as he noticed her cardigan slip further down her shoulder, she knew he could have become her dark secret in so many ways – a pact between them, secret visits and, above all else, companionship.

  But no good could come out of a connection in Blackthorn, not least with a con. Which is why she had no right even contemplating her attraction to him. It was a dead end of heartbreak and hopelessness. And she loathed herself for even considering it. And she loathed Eden more for inciting it in her when so much rested on her remaining focused.

  He may have been playing nice since arriving in that room, but that was only because Eden Reece was clearly even smarter than she’d given him credit for. He knew he was making it tough for her – acting like he was no threat, playing the game to placate her. He’d worked out, as he’d clearly stated, that she wasn’t going to strike unprovoked. It was the only thing holding him back from revealing what he truly was – what those numbers dictated he was.

  She wished she could have knocked him out cold there and then. Only everything was telling her that it would take more than torture to get the truth out of him as to who he was and why he was there. And she would be left with no choice but to kill him. Killing someone strapped down and helpless was not an option though. Like she’d resolved when first dragging him into that outer room, if she was going to take him out, she’d do it with him standing.

  As he glanced from her exposed chemise to where her socks skimmed mid-thigh, she swapped the weight from one foot to the other to keep his attention there, her inner thighs clenching.

  He looked back up at her. ‘Anyone would think you brought me here to seduce me, not interrogate me.’

  ‘No one said we can’t have fun while I do it.’

  He placed his bottle aside as he closed the gap between them. ‘And is that what you’re looking for, Jessie – fun?’

  ‘You seem to be the one capable of providing it.’

  ‘I usually draw the line at those intending to kill me.’

  ‘How very safe of you.’

  He pushed her ringlets back from her shoulder to run his hand gently down her bare arm, taking the exposed loose-fitting shoulder strap of her chemise with it. The fabric, thankfully, hung on the tip of her breast, keeping all but the upward curve covered. To her surprise, he didn’t intervene further. Instead he brushed the back of his hand across her collarbone, up to cup her neck, before rubbing his thumb lightly along her jawline.

  His touch was as gentle as it had been the first time they’d met – exploratory, as if enjoying the feel of her skin; a touch that was as enticing as the look in his eyes, the anticipation of what he would do sending too much heat pounding through her veins to back down.

  She couldn’t back down. And it made her feel sick to her stomach that she had become that desperate.

  ‘You want to play dangerously, Jessie?’

  ‘I don’t need to play.’

  ‘Just as you can kick my arse if I overstep the mark, right?’

  ‘Does that bother you?’

  She snatched back a breath as he grabbed just below her behind, pressing his fingers deep into her flesh as he lifted her up onto the edge of the table. Her lower spine ached at the brush of soft denim against the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs as he eased between them, let alone the strength of the muscles she felt. And she felt the same strength in his hands as he slid them up the inside of her thighs to part them further, his thumbs edging dangerously close to her sex.

  Pools of heat swept over her, her spine prickling, her hardened nipples grazing the silk of her chemise, the evidence laid bare of what his touch did to her – a revelation she knew would work to her advantage.

  And he had noticed, his gaze lingering on her breasts for a moment before he looked back down between her legs with a gaze that was blatantly sexual. Her pulse hitched up a notch, not helped as his eyes met hers again.

  Thumbs reaching her hip bones, Eden pulled her slightly closer, pressing the hardness between his legs against her sensitive sex. Coils of pleasure tensed her abdomen, tingles striking the soles of her feet and the palms of her hands. Sensations that made her lose herself for a moment.

  ‘What makes you so sure you can take me on?’ he asked.

  ‘What makes you think I can’t?’

  He bit into his bottom lip as he smiled, his dark brown eyes almost black in the muted light. But instead of attempting to pin her onto the table as she’d anticipated, he eased her back down onto her feet, his grip on her hips keeping her clothing raised, her bare thighs sliding down soft denim until her feet finally met concrete.

  She felt a glitch of disappointment – not just that he might not be taking the bait, but at his lack of persistence amidst so much promise.

  And she so wanted him to persist, now for re
asons more troubling than her original intention.

  She kept her grip on the table, her eyes on his as he retained his hold. His lingering gaze, his lack of urgency, the prospect of him backing down, had her questioning again if she could do what she planned to do to him.

  Fortunately, letting her go seemed to be the last of his intentions.

  She subtly licked her dry lips, wondering if he’d try to kiss her again like he had the night before. She wondered what he’d do if this time she reciprocated. Because right then she knew she would – out of curiosity if nothing else. If he was going to stay gentle with her, if he was going to make a genuine move, then she knew she’d falter.

  As his mouth remained a painful few inches away, she searched his eyes for any sense of attraction beyond the low-key sexual game he was playing with her, anything beyond a male sensing he had a willing female in his grasp.

  To test his resolve, she pushed her hips forward to nudge a gap between them in an attempt to slide from his grasp. As she’d hoped, his grip tightened as he pushed her back against the pool table.

  Her stomach jolted.

  The subtle sharpness of his resistance knocked her chemise strap another inch down her arm, finally exposing her breast to him. But, to her surprise, she had no desire to cover herself, even less so as his glance scorched her chest.

  His minor restraint was a move she could so easily have overpowered. She could have slammed her fist into his jaw and knocked him five feet away at least and he wouldn’t have even seen it coming.

  Yet still there was no threat, no aggression in his eyes – just a male standing his ground with what he wanted. And, right then, it looked like he genuinely wanted her. More enticingly, he was clearly willing to fight for what he wanted – and not afraid of letting her know that. Whether he was willing to take what he wanted was the question she needed to keep forefront of her mind.