Read Online Untouchable (The Blankenships Book 8) by Evelyn Glass - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Evelyn Glass
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otherwise gorgeous suite. He brought her mouth down to his, but she was the one who kissed him, slipping her mouth over his in a motion that should have been soft and gentle, but was everything else. His lips parted just enough, and she traced his full lower lip with her tongue. He growled deep in his throat, and she let him. She let him growl while she explored his mouth with her tongue, ran her teeth over his lip, and tasted him, really tasted him like she hadn’t since their first night together.
He tasted warm and smooth, like a fine whiskey, splashing fire down her throat. His hand came away from her neck and trailed down her spine, finding the curve of her hip and tugging her towards him until she was straddling him. Even in his jeans, she could feel the heat of his body pressing up against her.
It was wrong, wrong to be this wound up in this moment, wrong to be thinking of sex and need and physical want when they should be plotting their escape, figuring out how to get out of here and get to safety. But it felt good to have him tight against her, good to feel his hands on her hips, urging her into motion against him.
“Is this wrong?” He asked her, his voice taut and hard. “Aren’t we supposed to be plotting and planning?” He was reading her mind, clearly, and she found she didn’t care.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. Her own voice was no better than his, full of fear that she’d twisted into something entirely different, an emotion she was willing to feel. “I don’t care. We’ll be reasonable later. I was so scared.” It hurt to give voice to the feeling, and she saw her own pain echoed in his eyes.
“Hey,” he said, all gruff gentleness now. He wrapped his arms tight around her, and for a little while, she just let herself be held and held him in return. It felt safe and comfortable, and she felt a little more likely to survive—whatever the hell this nightmare was.
“Have you eaten?” Zoey asked, after a while. “They brought me some food, there’s a little fridge, so I put some of it away—”
“No, I’m all right,” he said. “Tanaka made sure to feed me.”
“Tell me what they want from you.” He turned away from her, and even though he didn’t move her off his lap, the shift in his attention hurt just a little. She didn’t want it to, but her heart ached, and whether she liked it or not, the fear kept slipping into her thoughts.
“They want what they had with my father,” he said, eventually. He spoke slowly, the words pulling out one at a time and seeming to hurt as they came out of his mouth. “At least, Tanaka does. I don’t know if he’s telling the truth about anything. He could be just trying to be the Bond villain, you know, impressing us with how awful he is so that I give in and do what he wants.”
“I don’t understand, Alex. Tell me what he wants, so that we can make a decision.”
It was at the word ‘we’ that his attention turned back to her, haunted and lonely. “Is it still we, Zoey? Even after everything that has happened?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
He made a scoffing sound, and his hands pushed at her hips, but when she shifted her weight, he grabbed at her, keeping her close. “It’s a legitimate question,” he said, his gaze still focused away. “I can’t think of anything I’ve brought you other than death and destruction.”
She took time to find the right words, and then she reached out, curling her finger under the scruff on his chin and turning his face until he was turned towards her. His eyes looked longer, his gaze staying unfocused and up for a long moment before he would meet her gaze. She waited him out, patient and calm. “You brought me through it,” she said, emphasizing the word. “You didn’t run away. You didn’t abandon me. You could have run for it, left me to take the heat of everything, or thrown me under the bus from the first moment. But
He tasted warm and smooth, like a fine whiskey, splashing fire down her throat. His hand came away from her neck and trailed down her spine, finding the curve of her hip and tugging her towards him until she was straddling him. Even in his jeans, she could feel the heat of his body pressing up against her.
It was wrong, wrong to be this wound up in this moment, wrong to be thinking of sex and need and physical want when they should be plotting their escape, figuring out how to get out of here and get to safety. But it felt good to have him tight against her, good to feel his hands on her hips, urging her into motion against him.
“Is this wrong?” He asked her, his voice taut and hard. “Aren’t we supposed to be plotting and planning?” He was reading her mind, clearly, and she found she didn’t care.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. Her own voice was no better than his, full of fear that she’d twisted into something entirely different, an emotion she was willing to feel. “I don’t care. We’ll be reasonable later. I was so scared.” It hurt to give voice to the feeling, and she saw her own pain echoed in his eyes.
“Hey,” he said, all gruff gentleness now. He wrapped his arms tight around her, and for a little while, she just let herself be held and held him in return. It felt safe and comfortable, and she felt a little more likely to survive—whatever the hell this nightmare was.
“Have you eaten?” Zoey asked, after a while. “They brought me some food, there’s a little fridge, so I put some of it away—”
“No, I’m all right,” he said. “Tanaka made sure to feed me.”
“Tell me what they want from you.” He turned away from her, and even though he didn’t move her off his lap, the shift in his attention hurt just a little. She didn’t want it to, but her heart ached, and whether she liked it or not, the fear kept slipping into her thoughts.
“They want what they had with my father,” he said, eventually. He spoke slowly, the words pulling out one at a time and seeming to hurt as they came out of his mouth. “At least, Tanaka does. I don’t know if he’s telling the truth about anything. He could be just trying to be the Bond villain, you know, impressing us with how awful he is so that I give in and do what he wants.”
“I don’t understand, Alex. Tell me what he wants, so that we can make a decision.”
It was at the word ‘we’ that his attention turned back to her, haunted and lonely. “Is it still we, Zoey? Even after everything that has happened?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
He made a scoffing sound, and his hands pushed at her hips, but when she shifted her weight, he grabbed at her, keeping her close. “It’s a legitimate question,” he said, his gaze still focused away. “I can’t think of anything I’ve brought you other than death and destruction.”
She took time to find the right words, and then she reached out, curling her finger under the scruff on his chin and turning his face until he was turned towards her. His eyes looked longer, his gaze staying unfocused and up for a long moment before he would meet her gaze. She waited him out, patient and calm. “You brought me through it,” she said, emphasizing the word. “You didn’t run away. You didn’t abandon me. You could have run for it, left me to take the heat of everything, or thrown me under the bus from the first moment. But
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