Sinful Illusions

by Morgan James

  I bobbed my head sleepily, covering my yawn with one hand as I moved behind him and took a seat on the edge of the large soaker tub.

  A smile flitted across his face before he turned his attention back to his reflection. I watched as he meticulously shaved away the growth of whiskers from the day before. My gaze roved over his back, clad in a pristine white undershirt. I could just barely make out the outline of the bandage adorning his side through the tight material. Just over twenty-four hours ago, I’d stood in this very spot, piecing him back together.

  Before I even thought about what I was doing, I was on my feet and moving toward him. His brows lifted as I leaned one hip against the vanity and studied him in the mirror. “How are you feeling?”

  Unwilling to break our gaze, I heard the soft click of the razor as he set it on the marble countertop, then turned to face me. “Fine.”

  I nodded, not really believing him. He had to be in an incredible amount of pain. “Do you need painkillers or anything?”

  A tiny smile, almost condescending, touched his mouth as he stared down at me. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  Stubborn man. Frustrated but unable to walk away just yet, my eyes swept over his face. White foam still clung to his jaw, and my fingers itched to touch him. “You missed a spot.”

  “Are you offering to shave me?”

  I lifted one shoulder even as my heart raced at the thought of carrying out the intimate act.

  The corner of his mouth kicked up. “You think I’ll let you near my throat with a razor?”

  After everything that had happened recently, the words stung. I was good enough to fuck, good enough to patch him up when he needed help, but he would never truly accept my presence. Forcing down the emotion, I rolled my eyes and started to turn away.

  A warm hand caught my arm, stopping me. “Eva.”

  Silently, I turned my head just enough to meet his gaze in the mirror. I watched as he picked up the razor and extended it to me. My eyes dropped to the implement before meeting his intense stare again. Finally, I slipped it from his grasp, butterflies kicking up in my chest as I moved in front of him. His hands moved to my hips, pulling me close, and I cautiously lifted the razor and cut away the remaining whiskers. When I was done, I set it on the sink and lifted my gaze to his.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  His eyes dropped to my mouth, and I found myself stretching up on my toes to meet him halfway as he dipped his head and kissed me. He tasted of mint, and the sensual scent of the shaving cream still clung to his skin, filling my nostrils. One hand moved to my face, slipping into the unruly tresses of my hair and tipping me slightly to the side.

  I melted against him, momentarily allowing my insecurities to fade into the background as the world narrowed to just him and me. His arm tightened around my waist as if he never wanted to let me go, and I slid my hands upward, curving my arms around his neck, holding him close. He stiffened briefly, then immediately relaxed into my embrace.

  After a minute, he pulled back and leaned his forehead against mine. “I’ll be late again,” he said apologetically.

  I tried to hide my disappointment behind a forced smile. “That’s fine.”

  “If you ever want or need anything, angel, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  I nodded in agreement, and he kissed me once more before pulling away. I watched him finish his morning routine, a strange ache in my chest. I’d hated this man upon first coming here. So why was it that I only wanted him more with every day that passed?

  I hardly remembered my old life at all. It all seemed so… pale compared to Fox. He’d opened my eyes to a need deep inside myself I never knew existed. He was nothing like I imagined, and I found myself wondering how I would ever go on without him—or why I would ever want to.

  The remainder of the day passed slowly, and by late that evening I found myself in front of the fireplace in the den, watching the flames dance and writhe behind the grate. The soft scuffle of shoes against carpet made my ears perk up, and I felt Fox before he rounded the couch.

  “I’m surprised you’re still awake.”

  I lifted one shoulder as I stared up at him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  He gave a little half nod, looking lost in thought. “Not tired?”

  “Not really.” I watched as he turned toward the fireplace, his gaze faraway.

  He was so damn handsome. Dark and mysterious, compelling beyond reason, he was everything I never knew I wanted. The sound of his voice startled me when he spoke.

  “Do you play chess?”

  It took my mind a moment to catch up. “I’ve never tried.”

  Those dark eyes met mine. “Would you like to?”

  I felt like it was a test of sorts, though I wasn’t sure why. “Sure.”

  Something flickered across his expression then was gone a moment later as he pushed to his feet and held out a hand. Slipping my palm into his, I allowed him to pull me to my feet and guide me to a small table in the corner. I’d seen the chess set before but had no particular interest in it before this moment.

  I took a seat in one chair as Fox began to arrange the carved pieces on the board, naming each as he went and explaining their moves.

  “The object of the game, as you’re probably aware, is to capture your opponent’s king,” he said as he placed the king in the middle of the back row then picked up the remaining figure. “But the queen is the most valuable, powerful piece on the board. She can move any number of spaces in any direction.”

  “Okay.” I watched intently, memorizing each game piece’s capabilities. Fox started off, and the first few moves were uneventful as Fox talked through different scenarios. As I began to grow a little more confident, he became more aggressive. Half an hour later, we were each down several pieces—as Fox, I was sure, had allowed me to win some of his—and I was currently preoccupied with chasing his king around the board.

  Suddenly, his bishop came from the side and captured my queen that I’d left unguarded. “Damn!”

  Fox smiled. “You were so focused on trying to get to my king that you missed my last two moves.”

  I sat back in my seat, disgruntled. “I’m new to this. You’re supposed to take it easy on me.”

  The look he threw my way was full of some unnamed emotion. “How will you ever get better if you’re not pushed?” Before I could even begin to come up with a response to that, he continued. “Besides, angel, I’ve seen that devious mind of yours. I know better than to underestimate you.”

  Flattered by his backhanded compliment and not really paying attention, I moved my remaining bishop forward.

  Fox tsked and shook his head as his rook moved into alignment with my knight. “Check. You left yourself wide open for that.”

  I couldn’t even begin to care. Being with him like this had stirred something deep inside, something that refused to be quieted, and I grew more and more anxious as the seconds ticked by. A few moves later, he tipped over my king. “Checkmate, angel.”

  “Finally.” Fox’s arms came around me as I pushed from my seat and clambered onto his lap, careful to avoid his injured side.

  His lips brushed over mine. “Is this my reward for winning?”

  Not bothering to respond, I fell headlong into the kiss, forgetting everyone and everything but him.

  Chapter Thirty

  Fox

  My men crowded my desk, poring over a map and several pages of correspondence that we’d been able to obtain. The sun had descended hours ago, and though it was pitch black outside we continued to toil away to disentangle the convoluted riddles. Even so, I found my thoughts drifting to Eva, wondering what she was doing this very minute.

  Over the past week, she’d begun to open up more and more, seeking me out during the day, joining me for lunch or taking up residence in the sitting room near my office in what I hoped was a gesture designed to be closer to me. We’d played chess several times since the other night as well
, and each day her strategies became stronger, more complex. I smiled at the memory of the game of strip chess I’d challenged to her to, but had gone unfinished as lust took over and the game was forgotten. My side still bothered me, but the twinge of pain was nothing compared to the sheer bliss I felt when I was with Eva.

  As if my thoughts had conjured her, a soft knock came from my office door. “Come in.”

  The door swung open, and Eva peeked inside. As soon as she saw my men clustered around me, her cheeks pinkened, and she began to retreat. “I’m sorry, I—”

  I waved away her apology. “Did you need something?”

  She shook her head. “No, I… I just thought you might want to break for dinner.”

  I flicked a glance at the clock over the mantle, which showed it was now after nine o’clock. As if the word dinner had triggered the reaction within my body, my stomach growled. I stood and gestured to my men. “We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

  Rodrigo met my gaze and held it for a moment before setting down the paper in his hands. I knew he was concerned about Eva reading the information, and I gave a slight shake of my head. My office was locked anytime I wasn’t physically inside, so there was nothing to worry about. His lips pressed into a thin line, but he dipped his head and made his way out of the room. Eva moved aside as he left, keeping a healthy distance between them. Her eyes followed him cautiously, like she expected him to lunge at her. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed her discomfort around him, but she had nothing to worry about. She was no longer under scrutiny from my men; she was just as much a part of this household as they were.

  I maneuvered around my desk and approached her. “Have you eaten?”

  “Not yet.” Her pale locks slipped over her shoulder as she shook her head. “I thought I’d wait for you. If you want company,” she added hastily.

  “Of course.” I placed one hand on her lower back and steered her out of my office, then locked up behind me before guiding her to the kitchen.

  “Carmen made lasagna earlier,” she said. “I put it in the oven to heat up, so it should be just about ready.”

  “Sounds good.” I gathered plates and utensils while she checked the pasta and pulled a steaming tray from the oven.

  While I served the lasagna, Eva cut thick slices of Italian bread from a fresh loaf and slathered them with butter. I carried the plates to the smaller table situated in the breakfast nook, and she followed, carrying a glass of ice water for herself and an IPA for me.

  “Thank you.” I accepted the bottle as she held it out to me, then cracked the top and took a long drink. It’d been a hell of a day, and a migraine pulsed just behind my eyes from staring at the unintelligible code-riddled messages.

  Eva slid into the seat across from me, and I found my gaze drawn to her as she picked up her fork and dug into her food. Every move she made seemed utterly fascinating, from the way she sat in her seat, spine perfectly straight, to the way she slipped the tines of the fork into her mouth and delicately transferred the food onto her tongue. Though she’d been with me for nearly a month and a half, I realized I hadn’t learned much about her. Even more surprising than that was the fact that I actually wanted to.

  “Tell me something, Eva.” She lifted her brows as if waiting for me to continue, and I smiled a little. “Tell me anything.”

  Confusion was written plainly on her face as she spoke. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” I rested my elbow on the table as I studied her. “What do you like? What do you dislike?”

  Instead of easing, her expression became even more turbulent. “Why?”

  Why, indeed? “I know nothing about you, Eva. A background check can only tell me so much about a person. I know everything about you—except who you are.”

  She gave a tentative nod, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. “I like to read.”

  I knew that, of course. She spent a majority of her day reading in one of the sitting rooms or walking the garden when the sun was out. “What else?”

  “I love music—it doesn’t matter what it is, I’ll listen to it. I like the way it makes me feel.” I smiled as she continued. “But I hate to dance. My mother insisted we both be trained when we were young. I resisted, but Elle…” She stumbled over her sister’s name but quickly recovered. “Elle always did what my parents demanded, no questions asked. She was an amazing dancer.”

  Her eyes had taken on a sad quality when she’d spoken of her sister, and I found myself wanting to lift that expression from her face. “I’m not much of a dancer either, not if you want to end the night with your feet intact.”

  She smiled a little at that, and I pressed further. “What else?”

  “I…” She searched for something else. “I prefer to read, but I do love a good movie occasionally.”

  “What genre?”

  “Thriller. Suspense.”

  I should have guessed. My angel had a quick and agile mind; of course she would prefer a complex plot that kept her guessing and analyzing. “We could watch a movie later, if you’d like.”

  Her gaze snapped to mine. “I—That sounds nice.”

  After we finished our meals, I slipped my arm around her waist and showed her to the media room at the opposite end of the house. She looked around curiously, and I smiled as I picked up a remote from a cabinet built into the wall. “Have you been in here before?”

  “I’ve seen it, but I’ve never really spent much time in here,” she said as her gaze swept over the dark walls and stadium seating arranged over the sloped floor, identical to a movie theater.

  Most everything was concealed, from the speakers in the ceiling to the screen that began to lower as I pressed a button on the remote. Her eyes widened. “That thing is huge!”

  I laughed. “If we’re going to watch a movie, we’re going to do it properly.”

  I allowed Eva to choose a movie to stream, and we settled into the soft leather recliners side by side. Slipping one arm around her shoulders, I pulled her close and rested my chin on the top of her head as she snuggled into my uninjured side.

  Throughout the movie, I found myself focusing more and more on the woman in my arms. In and out of bed, I wanted more of Eva—a lot more.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Eva

  My heart thundered in my chest, and I drew in a sharp breath as I peeked around the corner. For once, Fox’s men weren’t hanging around outside his office, and I darted across the hall before opening the heavy wooden door and slipping inside.

  I’d never sought him out like this before, and I wasn’t sure how he would react. It’d been twelve days since he’d shown up with that wound, and he seemed more and more on edge with each passing day.

  Fox’s head snapped up, and his hard expression melted away as soon as his eyes met mine. He pushed his chair backward as I rounded the desk. Eyes locked in his, I slid backward onto the hard surface and spread my knees wide. His eyes darkened with desire as they dropped to my exposed pussy, revealed by the dress I inched up my thighs.

  “Thought you could use a break. You seem tense.”

  “Angel, you have no idea.”

  He stood and moved between my legs, swiping his fingers through my drenched slit. I leaned forward, then yanked his shirt from his pants. I froze when he let out a little hiss. I tipped my face up to him just in time to see the flash of pain in his eyes, and I immediately released him. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing.” He reached for me, but I evaded his grasping fingers, and my gaze dropped to his midsection.

  “Is it your side? Is it still bothering you?” I reached for the buttons of his shirt, but he brushed my hands away.

  “I’m just sore. Nothing a couple painkillers won’t fix.”

  I tried to pull my hands free of his, but he held tight. “Let me see,” I snapped as I shook him off. With a resigned sigh, he allowed me to pull his shirt free and unfasten the buttons. The fabric parted, revealing swarthy dark skin stretched over tight
abs, and I sucked in a breath as his wound came into view. It was an angry purplish-red, swollen and inflamed. “Oh my God! This looks terrible.”

  “It’ll be fine,” he replied, a trace of irritation in his tone.

  “It’s not fine! It looks infected.” He growled as I gently probed around the wound, and I slid off the desk to get a better look at him, my expression concerned. “You need to have someone look at this. We should take you to the hospital.”

  “No.” He gave a single, firm shake of his head.

  “You have to do something,” I snapped. “Have you seen how bad that looks?”

  He let out a little grunt. “It’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

  “Quit being stubborn.” I wanted to stomp my foot but somehow managed to resist. “If you let that go much longer, it’s going to make you sick.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “It always looks worse before it gets better.”

  “Are you kidding me right now?” I stared up at him. “It’s been nearly two weeks. If it hasn’t started to heal yet, it’s not going to.”

  He reached for me. “Angel—”

  “No!” I backed away, holding my hands in front of me. “Don’t. I’m not touching you again until you get that taken care of.”

  His face darkened, and his hands fell to his sides. “Don’t push me, Eva.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” I retorted. “You know very well what could happen if you keep ignoring the problem.”

  After a long minute of tense silence, he finally relented. “Fine. I’ll have Dr. Marlowe come look at it. Will that make you feel better?”

  “Yes,” I said, relieved. It physically hurt me to see him in pain. I didn’t want to admit that I was actually worried about him, because that dredged up all kinds of feelings I wasn’t ready to address.

  “Good,” he replied. “Now that that’s taken care of—”

  “You haven’t taken care of anything,” I cut him off. “Go call the doctor.”

  He muttered something in another language, and I glared at him. “What was that? I couldn’t understand you.”