Hostile Territory - Marie James Page 0,26

bed.” I nudge her legs splayed out on the table with the tip of my booted foot.

“It’s too early,” she grumbles.

“You didn’t sleep well last night.”

“How would you know?”

Because I watched you toss and turn, and I didn’t bother to comfort you because the more you wiggled, the more the sheet drifted away from your body revealing so much tanned skin, I had to bite my knuckle to keep from groaning and waking you.

And it’s official. I’m the biggest creep on the planet. I didn’t feel so bad watching it last night, but replaying it in my head makes me feel like I should be on some predator list splashed on the front page of the local paper.

“You look tired,” I say instead.

She snaps her head in my direction, narrowing her eyes but not saying anything.

I know what I just said, and I’ve been married, so I know what it sounds like to a woman. You look tired, to them, translates into you look like shit. Somehow, females, with a very clear understanding of the English language translate those few words differently than any other words a man could use.

She doesn’t take it as concern from me but as an insult.

“Tired, huh?”

“Just a little,” I placate because Lord knows I don’t have the energy for another verbal sparring session with her.

“Okay.” She pops up from the couch and walks away.

“Crap,” I mutter, turning my head just in time to see the bedroom door snap shut.

After twenty minutes of not hearing anything from her, I finally settle back into my sloth position on the couch. The game is over by now, but I just can’t muster the energy to reach for the remote and change the channel or turn it off completely so I can sleep.

My lead-heavy eyes flutter when the bedroom door opens, only Anna isn’t popping out for a bottle of water or something to eat. She’s dressed to the nines in a sleek blue dress that moves like waves of the ocean when she walks.

“What the fuck?” I hiss, sitting up fully on the sofa and glaring at her. “Playing dress up or something?”

I default to agitation because that emotion is ten times better than wondering which set of sexy lingerie she’s wearing under that amazing dress. I had to hightail it out of the living room earlier this afternoon at the sight of it in order to prevent her from getting an eyeful of what seeing it did to me.

“I’m going down to the bar for a drink.”

“Like hell you are.” I almost add not dressed like that, but that would only encourage her to ask more questions. I still haven’t gotten the sound of her saying wouldn’t you like to know what this filthy mouth can do out of my head. On the surface my answer is never in a million years, but truthfully, I wanted to unzip right there and—

I shake my head, looking from the tips of her painted toenails to the layers of shiny hair floating around her shoulders in sleek waves.

Do not think about wrapping that around your fist.

Don’t do it, Deacon. Be strong. Be—

“What?” Her knowing grin reminds me of the way I imagine a female octopus would look at her mate before strangling him to death while they’re mating. It’s all coy and alluring when really, it’s just a trap.

“You need to stay in the room.”

“I need a drink.”

I point to the phone on the table. “Call room service.”

“I need the ambiance,” she says with a wave of her hand before she breezes away.

“You need your ass whipped for being so damn stubborn,” I mutter.

I doubt she heard me because the door to the suite closes with a mocking hiss before I get the words fully out of my mouth.

I’ve taken enough precautions to get her here that I highly doubt she’s in danger, but it isn’t the threat of Russian mobsters hurting her that has me standing from the sofa and cursing under my breath. It’s the knowledge that once she sits down at the bar that she’s going to be swarmed by assholes that have a much greater chance of deciphering the lingerie question I thought of earlier than I would, namely by having a chance to pull that silky blue fabric from her body.

My pulse is pounding in my ears by the time I step off the elevator and head to the bar. Soft music plays overhead, and surprisingly the bar is fairly calm. A few guys