“I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice sounded very small, unconvincing, even to her own ears. “I’m not hiding behind anything. And you don’t know the first thing about me.”
“Don’t I?” His dark eyes flashed with amber. When he spoke again, she spied the razor-sharp tips of his fangs behind his sensual upper lip. “You wanted me to take you out of that party last night. You would’ve fought me and denied it, but in the end, we both know you would’ve gone with me.”
Oh, God. He was right.
Even so, she gave a sharp toss of her head. “No. I would have done no such thing—”
“Yes, Jordana, you would have.” He smiled now, a confident, knowing smile that gave her no mercy at all. “And today in the supply room of the command center, you wanted me to touch you, to kiss you. To do whatever wicked things I wanted to you.”
She swallowed hard, her mouth going dry under the scorching heat of his gaze.
“You waited for it,” he said. “You crave it now, as much as I do.”
A sound curled up from her throat, but if she’d hoped to be able to deny what he was saying, the soft moan that slipped past her lips was a pitiful effort. “Don’t say such things. You have no right—”
“Why not, Jordana?” he pressed. “Why not say it if it’s the truth? Why should either of us pretend we can stop what’s going on between us?”
“Because—” She sucked in a breath, searching for the strength to refuse him.
“Because, why?” he asked, more gently now, yet no less commanding. “Tell me why you’d rather scurry back behind your family name and the obligations you’ve constructed into your own prison?”
Jordana brought her fingers up to her lips, trying to bite back the words that would betray her. They spilled out anyway, a whispered rush. “Because I’m afraid.”
Something flickered over Nathan’s stern features—shock or understanding, sympathy or pity; she couldn’t be sure.
He reached behind him and hit the stop button on the elevator. With a soft rock, the car came to a cushioned halt inside the shaft.
Jordana’s eyes went wide. “What are you doing?”
Nathan didn’t answer. “Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
Anxiety shot through her. “Seamus will notice that we’ve stopped. He’ll wonder what’s going on in here.”
“I don’t give a f**k,” Nathan growled. “Neither should you.”
“He can see us,” Jordana pointed out, glancing past Nathan, toward the small security camera lens staring down at them from the ceiling of the lift.
Although he didn’t so much as flinch, the tiny red light on the monitoring device blinked out, snuffed by the power of Nathan’s Gen One Breed mind. “Now it’s just you and me, Jordana. I’m the only one who can see you. I’m the only one who will hear you. Are you afraid now?”
When she looked down in silence, Nathan’s warm, strong fingers came to rest beneath her chin. He lifted her face, refusing to let her hide even her gaze from him. “Are you afraid of me, Jordana?”
She gave a weak shake of her head, astonished that it wasn’t fear she felt with this man right now. It was something far more powerful than that. More powerful than the desire he stirred in her as well. She trusted him.
Nathan didn’t have to demand she bare her soul to him; his turbulent blue-green eyes and unexpectedly gentle touch compelled her with equal measure. “My father’s had a very strict path laid out for me to follow from the time I was a child. He wants things for me. Expects me to act a certain way, to achieve certain goals he’s set for me. He does it out of love, I know that. He only wants what’s best for me.”
“I’m sure he does.” Nathan closed the scant distance between them, a towering wall of muscle and dark, simmering intent. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “But sometimes I’m afraid I’ll never be the daughter he wants me to be. I’m terrified I’m going to wake up one day and realize I no longer want the things he thinks are best for me.” She let out a soft sigh, still holding Nathan’s stormy gaze. “I’m afraid I already have.”
He growled a curse, something low and dark, under his breath. His features sharpened, making his face more fierce, as profane as it was handsome. Jordana lifted her hand, wanting to brave a touch of his angled cheekbone and rigid jaw.
Nathan caught her in midmotion, wrapping his fingers around her wrist before she could make contact. His grip was warm but firm. Wordlessly, he raised her hand up and away from him, pinning it over her head against the back wall of the elevator car.
Jordana didn’t know what to say—she didn’t know what to think—as he then brought her other hand up as well and held it there. She tested his hold and found it unyielding. As unbreakable as iron.
Staring up at him, she swallowed, all too aware of how her current position left her totally at Nathan’s mercy. With her hands held above her head, her spine pressed against the solid wall of the elevator car, the only place she could possibly move was toward the crowding heat of his body. Her br**sts strained against the buttons of her conservative silk blouse. Her legs were spread slightly to keep her balance, and cool air tickled up the bare lengths of her calves and thighs, making her even more aware of the moist heat pulsing at her core.
Every feminine particle of her being thrummed in response to Nathan’s presence, anticipation pounding in her blood.