Read Online No Turning Back by Kaylea Cross - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kaylea Cross
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to happen. But if you want to try to earn my trust, I'm game.” He tilted his dark head, pale eyes glittering a challenge in the lamp light. “You can start by taking off all your clothes.”
Ben barely withheld his cynical smile at the shock in her wide mahogany eyes. Her mouth opened and closed, like she was trying to come up with an argument and couldn't find the words. Other than that she didn't move. Not even a blink.
He hadn't intended to go this route, but the whole innocent routine with the big doe eyes and trembling lower lip pissed him off. Did she think he was stupid? That just because he'd worked with her and she knew his brother he'd jump to her defense after all the suspicious things that had happened in her absence? No way. He couldn't risk more lives. If she proved her innocence, he'd apologize for treating her like a dirty agent later. But for now, that's the way he was going to play it. Hurt feelings could be fixed. Dead people couldn't.
Sam's throat bobbed as she swallowed. “W-what?”
“You heard me. Your clothes. Off. Now. Or did you want me to do it for you?”
Her arms came up to shield her breasts in an inherently feminine move of protection. Her face remained frozen in the dimness. She took a halting step backward, then glanced toward the door behind her.
Don't even think about it, sweetheart.
Her gaze traveled to the double bed against the opposite wall before darting back to him. The color drained out of her face. The sudden peak in her fear ate at him.
He snorted, insulted. “You think I brought you here so I could use sexual interrogation techniques or some shit?”
She blinked at him, wary as a deer confronting a hunter.
Well, shit, wasn't that a kick in the ass? “Come on, Sam. You contact me out of the blue from God knows where and ask for my help. Well, here I am. But I'm not promising you a goddamn thing until I know for sure you're not carrying a wire and I find out what the hell you've been up to the last week.” When she hesitated, he pushed. “Don't want to play by my rules? That's fine. Say the word, sweetheart, and I'm outta here.” He started to get up.
“I... but— All of them?”
He smiled thinly and sat back down. “Every last piece.”
Her mouth tightened.
“I'm sure you can figure out why I'd want to confirm you aren't bugged or wired, since you design shit like that for a living. For all I know, you've been taken captive and sent here by the bad guys to trap me.”
“That's not— ”
Ben lost his patience. “Off. Now.”
Even in the poor lighting he could tell she was blushing, but he didn't care. He needed to know if someone else was listening to their conversation before he got down to business. She must have decided he was her only hope, because she bent down and unlaced her boots, took them and her socks off.
“Kick them over to me,” he instructed. When she did, he searched for any signs of a wire or tracking device. The soles of her boots were still intact, the lining solid. So far, so good. Looking up at her nervous face, he motioned for her to continue. She removed her headscarf, exposing harshly dyed raven hair that completely washed her out. It didn't suit her at all, but at least she'd known to change her appearance. Next came the robe that swallowed her frame. She lifted it over her head and let it fall to the floor, leaving her in a t-shirt and cargo pants that hugged every luscious curve of her body. He made himself sit stock still in the uncomfortable chair while she grasped the hem of her snug shirt and started to peel it over her head.
She stopped and met his gaze, as if waiting for him to say he'd changed his mind. Ben cocked a brow and waited. When she dropped her eyes, her fingers weren't quite steady as she worked the garment up, exposing the pale skin of her flat stomach and then higher over her full breasts encased in a black lace push-up bra. His thighs tightened as he struggled not to react to the sight of her. Man,
Ben barely withheld his cynical smile at the shock in her wide mahogany eyes. Her mouth opened and closed, like she was trying to come up with an argument and couldn't find the words. Other than that she didn't move. Not even a blink.
He hadn't intended to go this route, but the whole innocent routine with the big doe eyes and trembling lower lip pissed him off. Did she think he was stupid? That just because he'd worked with her and she knew his brother he'd jump to her defense after all the suspicious things that had happened in her absence? No way. He couldn't risk more lives. If she proved her innocence, he'd apologize for treating her like a dirty agent later. But for now, that's the way he was going to play it. Hurt feelings could be fixed. Dead people couldn't.
Sam's throat bobbed as she swallowed. “W-what?”
“You heard me. Your clothes. Off. Now. Or did you want me to do it for you?”
Her arms came up to shield her breasts in an inherently feminine move of protection. Her face remained frozen in the dimness. She took a halting step backward, then glanced toward the door behind her.
Don't even think about it, sweetheart.
Her gaze traveled to the double bed against the opposite wall before darting back to him. The color drained out of her face. The sudden peak in her fear ate at him.
He snorted, insulted. “You think I brought you here so I could use sexual interrogation techniques or some shit?”
She blinked at him, wary as a deer confronting a hunter.
Well, shit, wasn't that a kick in the ass? “Come on, Sam. You contact me out of the blue from God knows where and ask for my help. Well, here I am. But I'm not promising you a goddamn thing until I know for sure you're not carrying a wire and I find out what the hell you've been up to the last week.” When she hesitated, he pushed. “Don't want to play by my rules? That's fine. Say the word, sweetheart, and I'm outta here.” He started to get up.
“I... but— All of them?”
He smiled thinly and sat back down. “Every last piece.”
Her mouth tightened.
“I'm sure you can figure out why I'd want to confirm you aren't bugged or wired, since you design shit like that for a living. For all I know, you've been taken captive and sent here by the bad guys to trap me.”
“That's not— ”
Ben lost his patience. “Off. Now.”
Even in the poor lighting he could tell she was blushing, but he didn't care. He needed to know if someone else was listening to their conversation before he got down to business. She must have decided he was her only hope, because she bent down and unlaced her boots, took them and her socks off.
“Kick them over to me,” he instructed. When she did, he searched for any signs of a wire or tracking device. The soles of her boots were still intact, the lining solid. So far, so good. Looking up at her nervous face, he motioned for her to continue. She removed her headscarf, exposing harshly dyed raven hair that completely washed her out. It didn't suit her at all, but at least she'd known to change her appearance. Next came the robe that swallowed her frame. She lifted it over her head and let it fall to the floor, leaving her in a t-shirt and cargo pants that hugged every luscious curve of her body. He made himself sit stock still in the uncomfortable chair while she grasped the hem of her snug shirt and started to peel it over her head.
She stopped and met his gaze, as if waiting for him to say he'd changed his mind. Ben cocked a brow and waited. When she dropped her eyes, her fingers weren't quite steady as she worked the garment up, exposing the pale skin of her flat stomach and then higher over her full breasts encased in a black lace push-up bra. His thighs tightened as he struggled not to react to the sight of her. Man,
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