every
available inch of the apartment wall, loud, swirling, chaotic colors jumped out at her. So many shades, she could never count them all, careering through the space like a kaleidoscopic dream.
Slowly, she turned in a circle, trying to find a pattern in the chaos. Too many scenes, too much to look at.
Some were abstract shapes painted in dynamic
shades,
wedged
between
almost
frantic
depictions
of
city
landmarks, such as the Brooklyn Bridge.
Yankee Stadium. A subway train. In each vignette, half of the perfectly rendered landmark remained intact, while the other half disappeared in flames. The more scenes she took in, the more the theme became obvious. Two conflicting outcomes: the murals had split personalities. She didn’t need him to confirm he’d been the one to paint them. It was obvious.
“Is this why you keep the lights off?”
She searched his face for answers.
Her breath caught in her throat at the intensity he radiated.
“Among other reasons.”
Tamping down the urge to pry more, she walked into the central living room between an open kitchen and a hallway she assumed led to the bedrooms. She dropped the plastic bags to the ground, her hand stretching out of its own accord to trace the outline of a woman’s face.
With a frown, she cast a look around the room and realized the same outline appeared every few feet. No features, just the shape of a head with long brown hair. Running through the strands was a streak of hot pink.
“Who—”
“Your room is behind the kitchen.” He pinched her waist. “Come on, stop gawking.”
She rubbed the tingling spot. “I’m not gawking.”
“You’re one of those drivers that slows down to watch someone get a speeding ticket, aren’t you?” His disappeared into a door she hadn’t seen before, just off the kitchen. “A rubbernecker.”
“You’re just trying to change the subject.”
He sighed as she entered the room.
“Waitresses aren’t usually so astute, Ladybug.”
“Guys like you aren’t usually mural artists.”
Before she could blink, he lunged toward her, sending her back against the wall. “Guys like me?” He rested his palms above her, leaning down until his breath feathered her lips. “And what exactly do you know about me?”
Sera realized her massive error. His playful side had allowed her to get comfortable,
but
she
needed
to
remember whom she was dealing with.
She’d already gotten a glimpse of his notorious temper. “I don’t know anything,” she whispered, letting real fear show. “I was just surprised.”
“Surprised,” he repeated slowly.
“While you’re here, you need to be more careful what you say and who you say it to. Comments like that can get you hurt.
And then I’ll have to hurt that somebody back. It’ll be very ugly, Sera. Do you understand?”
She nodded, then gasped when he ground his hips against hers. The steel of his arousal pressed against the softness of her belly. He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes, an expression that struck her
as
pained. Move, she silently commanded him. Touch me. When he didn’t grant her the friction she wanted, she lifted her hands and dug them into his thick, haphazard mane of burnished gold hair. With a snarl, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the wall above her. The loss of control sent exhilaration snapping along her skin. She shouldn’t like it. As a cop, the ability to defend herself should be paramount, but something about being put on display made
her
feel
exceedingly
hot.
Tempting.
His gaze raked down her body, lingering on the rise and fall of her breasts. The thin material of her T-shirt hid nothing, telling him without words that she was turned on. For him. By him.
“Stop begging me for it.” His voice shook. “I’m hanging on by a goddamn thread here.”
She didn’t understand his plea. He obviously
wanted
her,
and
her
willingness couldn’t be clearer. Why was he holding back? “Can I ask you a question?”
“If I say no…” Appearing to give in a little, he ran his tongue along her lower lip and groaned, “Would it stop you?”
“Probably not.”
“Maybe I’ll kiss you to shut you up.
You’d love that. Wouldn’t you?”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
Going on instinct, she gave a long, slow roll of her hips. “Do it.”
He gave a sharp curse. “Ask the question,” he rasped at her ear.
“Why did you bring me here, if not for this?” She tilted her head, hoping he would take the hint and kiss her there.
When he didn’t disappoint, she moaned in her throat. His damp lips were smooth where the rest of him was hard, rough.
They traced the skin beneath her ear with unerring accuracy, homing in on the sensitive spot she hadn’t even been aware of. “You locked me in my room last night…and n-now I’m in a separate bedroom. It seems counterproductive.”