His to Take (10 page)

But if he followed through with all the sizzle and passion searing between them, would
she feel as if he’d taken advantage of her emotional state? Would she hate him tomorrow?

Joaquin forced himself to tear away from Bailey’s mouth. Struggling for every panting
breath, he stared down at her dilated eyes and swollen lips, seeking the answer. He
almost couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again, taking her under him, and—

A phone he’d tucked away in his back pocket rang. The chime was unfamiliar, a bit
like classical music, only less lilting and more provocative.

“What the hell?” he cursed and reached for the device, ready to throw it across the
room for breaking the breathless mood between them.

Bailey’s blue eyes widened with distress. He’d been kissing her just moments ago,
and she’d been like the headiest siren seducing him to a burning hell he would have
been all too happy to endure. So how was it possible that seconds later her face could
turn so wrenchingly innocent?

“Blane,” she gasped, then reached for her phone.

The sound of the other man’s name on her lips pissed him off way more than it should.
“How do you know that’s him?”

The chime sounded again, and she grew more urgent to have the phone, stretching even
harder toward his pocket. Joaquin kept the mobile out of her reach.

“That’s his ringtone,” she insisted. “He’s looking for me.”

“He’s going to keep looking. If necessary, Axel will throw him off your track. You
can’t talk to anyone from your old life now, not until I figure out how to make you
safe.”

Okay, so that wasn’t precisely true. Mostly, but . . . Bailey talking about her boyfriend
while he still lay on top of her stuck in Joaquin’s craw. Not that he was jealous.
Well, maybe he was. But he really didn’t need some Lothario punk messing up his investigation.
And all right, he couldn’t stand the thought of this bastard near Bailey. Joaquin
couldn’t imagine any way she would have kissed him with that much need if Blane had
been giving it to her good and wringing the multiple orgasms from her that she deserved.

“Give me my phone!” She struggled to push him off and get the device.

That wasn’t acceptable. He pinned her to the mattress. “No. I already told you that.”

“I want my phone. Blane will just worry and—”

“Do you find the ‘N’ or the ‘O’ confusing, Bailey? Or is it the two letters together
that baffles you?”

“It’s my phone. You have no authority over me.”

Her assertion made something inside him stop dead cold. “You want to test me on that?”

The chiming of the mobile stopped.

“Argh!” she grunted, pushing at his shoulders. “You big thug, get the hell off me.
I can’t breathe.”

If she was screaming at him, she was breathing just fine. But her rejection stung.

With a curse, he zipped to his feet and held out his hand to assist her off the bed.

Bailey stared like she didn’t quite trust his gesture and made her own way upright.
That chafed him raw, too. He
really
wanted to paddle her ass red until . . . what? She stopped defying him. Yeah, that
would be a nice start. Until she lost the attitude? That would suit him, too. Most
of all, he wanted to do it until he felt her melt against him again.

Damn it, he had to get his brain out of his dick and focus.

He pulled the phone from his back pocket and stared at the screen. Blane had left
a voicemail. How thoughtful.

Joaquin ground his teeth together. Why was he letting a twerp he’d never met bug him?
Oh, because the other guy had once had the pleasure of spending time in Bailey’s pussy.

Not anymore.

Yeah, being with Bailey would be dangerous for Blane and all that bullshit. But Joaquin
wasn’t forfeiting his chance to experience the pretty little ballerina in his bed
just because some other guy had been there first.

“I’ll be back.” He turned and stomped toward the door.

“Don’t you leave and take my phone.”

Joaquin ignored her and kept walking.

“You’re going to listen to my voicemail, aren’t you?”

He gave her credit for being smart. “Yep.”

Not only did he need to know if this guy was going to be a problem to work around,
it was time to find out just how deep her relationship with this prick went.

Her footfalls across the floor were his only warning before she grabbed his arm and
pulled him back around. “Stop making me question my sanity, then ignoring me. I might
be small, but I’m not some wimpy little pushover—”

“I’m warning you right now. Unless you want to be flat on your back again, this time
naked and stuffed full of my cock, don’t touch me.”

It took a moment for his words to register. Finally, her eyes widened, and she uncurled
her fingers slowly from him, then lifted both palms beside her head as if he’d barked
at her to put her hands up. It would almost be funny if her rebuff weren’t so irritating.
How had this girl twisted his balls up in knots with one damn kiss? He’d kind of been
an ass about it, too. Being on edge in more than one way wasn’t good for his mood.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing at his tired eyes. “I’m out of line.”

“So you’ll give me my phone and let me talk to Blane?”

Why didn’t she just stab him in the guts? Faster and more straightforward than this
verbal torture. He was already more addicted to Bailey than he wanted to admit—than
he could even believe—but that didn’t change a damn thing. “No.”

Before she could argue with him again, forcing him to listen to her whine for her
boyfriend, Joaquin yanked the door open and slammed it behind him. Quickly, he locked
it.

Flopping back against the surface, he closed his eyes and sighed. What the fuck had
happened in there? He’d gone in to convince her that she was Tatiana Aslanov and nearly
ended up fucking her. Worse, now his body seemed cued into her, like she was the itch
he hadn’t scratched and he was going to suffer a terrible set of hives until he did.
No, it was more. Deeper. He hated this confusing feelings shit.

Distance between him and Bailey would be good. The door wasn’t enough of a barrier
between them. He couldn’t afford to separate himself from her by a few miles, so he’d
settle for a few hours, a few drinks, a few work-related problems. He’d check in with
Hunter, Jack, and the others to see what new information they’d gleaned about her
adoptive parents. Yeah, that would work. And this fucking boyfriend stood between
them, too. Couldn’t forget about that.

Joaquin marched down the hall until he came to the smaller bedroom he’d crashed in
last night. As soon as he entered the little space, he hunted through Bailey’s phone
until he found the button that played her voicemails. He listened to Blane’s message
once, twice. Then he couldn’t decide whether to be furious or thrilled as fuck.

He clasped her mobile in his hand, gripping it so tightly it flickered. With a curse,
he shoved it back in his pocket, took a deep breath, and counted to ten.

If he were smart, he’d wait on this confrontation. With a bad mixture of desire and
anger juicing his veins, he wasn’t feeling like he had two brain cells to rub together.
He wanted to blame her because he desired her so badly, but that would make him an
absolute douche. He was a grown man able to take responsibility for his penis. Honestly,
he had no one to blame for this antsy, overheated mood but himself. He’d wanted to
avenge Nate, so he’d pursued this case. He’d been determined to learn Bailey’s real
identity, so he’d stripped away the façade of her life and exposed the truth underneath.
He’d allowed his need for her to burn past his good sense, so he’d kissed her. No,
he’d all but fucked her mouth with his own. And now . . .

“Shit!” He stalked back to the bedroom Bailey occupied, unlocked the door, and let
himself in. He wasn’t at all quiet as he banged it shut behind him.

Bailey snapped her gaze his way. She sent him a wary stare but didn’t back down. Why
did that make his dick hard all over again?

“What?” she snapped.

“He’s your boyfriend?” Joaquin challenged.

“My sex life is none of your business. What happened earlier between us shouldn’t
have. Don’t try to coax my cooperation again by doing your level best to nail me.
I was stupid enough to fall for it once, but never again.”

Every time she opened her mouth to defy him, he clawed an inch closer to taking her
over his knee. He ground his teeth together and drew in a bracing breath, looking
for some self-control.

“Answer. The. Question,” he snarled.

She crossed her arms over her chest and leveled him with a glare. “My relationship
with Blane has nothing to do with your case.”

Damn it, she was right. Whatever bad attitude had crawled up his ass needed to crawl
right back out . . . but he couldn’t seem to make that happen.

“I heard the voicemail he left.” Joaquin held up the phone. “Blane would be far more
interested in being my boyfriend than yours. Why did you lie to me?”

She hesitated. “I just let you draw the wrong conclusion.”

“Bullshit. You
lied
.”

“I didn’t. I said I was involved with someone. I simply didn’t say it was in a dance
capacity.”

He rolled his eyes. “Why the misdirection, then? You thought if I believed you were
taken I’d keep my hands off you?”

“Something like that,” she admitted.

Joaquin scoffed. “Did it feel that simple when I kissed you? Did any part of that
feel like I wasn’t dying to touch you?”

She couldn’t quite meet his gaze. With head bowed and light brown curls swirling around
her shoulders, she looked fragile, confused, and a little contrite. “No. It felt like
you wanted me, but that doesn’t make sense in my head.”

You aren’t alone.

“I don’t know what to think,” she went on, almost pleading for some sanity.

The anger drained from him. “Bailey, I’ve heaped a lot on your shoulders today. I’m
sorry. I shouldn’t have picked a fight with you.” He frowned, genuinely confused.
“Or did you pick one with me?”

“Probably both.” She smiled a bit ruefully.

“Yeah. Whatever . . . I didn’t mean for things to be this way.”

Her expression fell. “I’m scared, Joaquin. I’m scared of where my life is now. I’m
scared of who’s after me.” She hesitated, looking so delicate once more. “I’m scared
of you.”

Hell if that didn’t make him feel like a heel. “Baby girl, I would never hurt you.
I know we didn’t have the most auspicious meeting. I came on strong today. I’ve been
an ass. I don’t have an excuse, just an apology.”

She lifted one delicate shoulder in a half shrug. “I tore into you, too. I just . . .
I’m overwhelmed. There’s so much happening, and I don’t have anyone to blame except
you.”

He nodded, taking a careful step forward. Touch her? Don’t touch her? Finally, he
settled for cupping her slender arm, but he wanted so much more. “It’s fine. I’m a
big boy. I can take it. Put everything on my shoulders.”

Instead, Bailey closed her eyes and seemed to withdraw into herself. “Even if you’d
let me make a phone call, I hardly have anyone to talk to but you.”

His first thought was that she must be exaggerating. Then he paused. Parents gone.
No siblings. Who else did she have in her life? “Tell me about your relationship with
Blane.”

“He’s my best friend. I jokingly refer to him as my gay husband. He’s an incredible
dance partner. He’s helping me prepare for the upcoming audition. He guides me through
some of the catfights and ugly politics of a professional dance company. I listen
to the trials and tribulations of his rocky love life. He pushes me to open myself
more so that when I dance, people see my soul.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Joaquin blurted. He didn’t like the idea that Blane
used her as a sounding board, then turned around and criticized her.

“No, he’s right. What separates a technically beautiful dancer from a spellbinding
one is their ability to emote with their body. Technically, I’m great. Everyone says
it. I have a hard time coming out of my shell. I want to. I mean to. Blane is . . .”
She smiled, clearly in awe. “When he dances, you just feel all his life experience.
His joy, his heartbreak, his struggles. He’s wide open for the audience, and they
drink him in. He can move people to tears. He’s trying to help me be more like that.”

“How?” Had he misjudged Blane? Maybe the guy swung both ways and wanted to give Bailey
more “life experience.” If he did, Joaquin would be happy to knock his nuts back against
his spine.

“He encourages me to take a chance here and there. He tries to help me find ways to
laugh or cry or . . .” She shrugged. “Get mad, fall in love. Care about something
other than the perfect pointe. I’m not sure I’m a very good student. I know he’s right,
but I just don’t know how to actually follow his advice.”

This wasn’t his area of expertise. Emotions were something he usually avoided at all
costs. They got people killed in action. But Joaquin couldn’t not try to help her.
“What about when your adoptive parents passed away? Didn’t you feel something then?
Or after your first boyfriend or . . . ” He grasped at straws. “What about after you
had the dreams?”

“I feel plenty,” she corrected. “I
think
I’m releasing myself through dance, but everyone who sees me says I look like I’m
just on the cusp of opening myself and giving something beautiful through performance
before I pull back behind my walls. I’m not even aware of it.” She shook her head.
“Sorry. But that’s what Blane and I do together. When we rehearse, he pushes me to
my limits and tries to make me reveal my soul.”

Well, he wasn’t any expert, but he didn’t see how Blane talking and demonstrating
would be productive. Something had to motivate her to tear down her barricades and
share herself. She was keeping her feelings in for a reason. Fear? Self-consciousness?
Could be anything. “I have faith in you. You’ll find it.”