In For the Kill by Shannon McKenna Page A

and turned his scorching gaze upon her.
    She opened and closed her mouth, and blurted it out. “I’m leaving Portland,” she said. “I’m going to Europe in a couple of days. I got a consulting job. Helping big corporations do their bit to combat slavery and trafficking. I’ll be based in London, for the next couple of years. After that, who knows.”
    His face was a mask. “I see.”
    â€œI’m flying to Rome,” she babbled. “There’s a conference on modern slavery in San Anselmo this weekend. I’m speaking on the panels, as an expert consultant. They’re giving me an award. For what I did last year, and the follow-up fund-raising and crowdsourcing.”
    â€œThat would be the adventure that earned you the death threat?”
    She could not meet his eyes. “Ah, yes. The very one.”
    He nodded. “Congratulations. Sounds like a dream job. I know San Anselmo. Spent time there when I was a kid, with family. Beautiful place, right on the coast. When did you say you were leaving?”
    â€œThursday,” she said. “I’m speaking on Saturday.”
    His gaze was unwavering. “Okay. Help me out, Sveti. Explain why you’re here. You’re not here to put me out of my misery. You’re here to ratchet it up as much as you humanly can, right?”
    She forced air out of her chest. “No.” Her voice was a breathless squeak. “But if it’s too awful to endure, you can just throw me out.”
    He was shaking his head before she finished. “Too late for that,” he said. “Just tell me what’s expected of me. You don’t want a boyfriend. That’s crystal clear. So what do you want? A sex toy?”
    She winced. “No, I want . . . I want . . .” She floundered for words. “I want a friend who . . . who—”
    â€œWho fucks you,” he finished. “You want my fucking services just for the night? Or do you want them extended until Thursday? My calendar’s clear. I can fuck you nonstop until Thursday, no problem. Or is that too long term? Is a forty-eight-hour fuck commitment too scary?”
    She lunged for the door. “Never mind, if you’re so disgusted—”
    â€œOh, no.” He seized her from behind and startled warmth jolted her body. She’d been primed to shove his arms away, but instead, her fingernails dug hungrily into the thick muscles of his forearms.
    As if she were punishing him. Or claiming him.
    â€œYou’re not going.” His voice rasped against her throat. “Your fate is sealed. Just tell me what you want. Help me not to screw this up.”
    She inhaled, hungrily. Aftershave, soap, cologne, beer, the faint, salty tang of his sweat. “I want more of what happened today,” she said. “More of what happened in Bruno’s office. I thought you wanted it, too.”
    His arms tightened. “Sure I do. But what happened today was me trying to seduce you into being my girlfriend, and hopefully more in the future. That was me going out on a limb. If you don’t want that, the vibe changes. I can no longer afford to really give a shit. You get me?”
    â€œYes,” she said. “But you don’t . . . want me to go?”
    â€œNo, I don’t want you to go.” He pulled her closer, his breath warming her neck. “You’re cold. Where the hell’s your jacket?”
    â€œI’m okay,” she whispered.
    â€œCan I get you a beer?”
    She didn’t care for beer, but a drink might relax her. She nodded and followed him into the kitchen. Which was clean, for a single guy.
    He pulled out a longneck bottle, popped the cap, and handed it to her. She put it to her lips, trying not to grimace at the sour taste.
    He gave her a wry smile. “That good, huh? You prefer a lighter beer? I think I’ve got a lager in there somewhere. A Corona, maybe.”
    â€œI’m not much of a