Page 28 of Fury
The key slid easily into the lock, the mechanism inside scraping against itself, stuttering and then unlocking, and the alarm that had only just quieted fired up its warning pips.
“Well, put the code in then,” Fury commanded when I stood to the side to let him through, the sound of those words instructing me grating on every bone in my body.
Yet I didn’t resist, slipping past him and rushing to the keypad just behind the reception desk, the pips ringing in the space even more alarming as they counted down, the threat of the whole system coming alive making my fingers stagger over the buttons, the second attempt finally disarming it.
I hadn’t heard him move in behind me. Hadn’t even felt him. But as I turned, it was right back into that chest, again.
“Wasn’t hard, was it?”
“What?” My voice caught in my throat. Pathetic.
“Doing what I told you.”
I ignored him, treating him to silence and staring up at him, the only illumination coming from the emergency lighting casting a green glow over the profile of his face. The prominent cheekbones. The lips really too full for a man. The scar under the beard. Even in the shadows, I could see the way the hair changed direction, the tiniest bald line running just under the hair on his right cheek.
My chest rose and fell. Tightness grabbing at my ribs, each breath becoming harder to control. Jagged. Uneven. Uncontrolled.
“This intruder, then.” My voice was a whisper. My throat dry.
“Hmmmm,” he hummed in response, and I could feel the vibrations of that noise in my chest.
“You want to go check whether there is one, then?” The whisper continued, the sheer closeness of Fury stealing my voice, knocking me off kilter.
“Uh, huh.”
But he didn’t move, just stood. Staring. Our bodies separated by a tiny gap, his head stooped and mine pushed up towards him, my last act of resistance. My last stand. I could feel his breath on my face, warm and fresh, the slightest hint of mint, lifting the little wisps of hair around my forehead and creating the weirdest buzz through my body.
The sound filled the building. Sheer and horrific. Filling my ears with pain and I jumped backwards, a blunt force hitting my chest where my heart floundered, trying to escape. Run. That’s what I should be doing. And that was all I could hear in my head, run, run, run. But I couldn’t move and nor did I want to.
Fury’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me to him. A reaction. An instinct. Shielding me from something that neither of us could see in the shadows.
“Stay here,” Fury instructed.
“Fuck no!”
“Heidi.”
“No. It’s dark, and I’d be alone. Reckon I’m far safer right next to you, big guy.”
And in the bleating yell of my new alarm, Fury turned. I could barely see him in the dark, but I could feel the hand shove into my hair, grabbing a handful. The sudden pricks in my scalp casting a tingling energy all over my skin, ricocheting off every nerve. I gasped. Too loud. Involuntary. Fury’s grip tightened and his lips brushed mine, the scratch of his beard confusing my brain, which couldn’t decide whether to fight him off or attach my face to him.
And we did neither. Not one of us moving. Standing there with lips a fraction from touching, our breath mingling, both too stubborn to pull away or take the other on.
“Fine. But you do as I say, when I say it. Understand?” His lips moved against mine as he spoke, a beautiful contradiction of satiny smoothness and the sharp prickles from the short hair on his face.
“We’ll see.”
“You’re impossible.” His voice was a growl. “You’re standing here in the dark, a death threat hanging over your head, while someone is breaking into your premises and you’re having a fucking argument with me about following orders.”
“People don’t give me orders.”
“And I’m not fucking people. I’m the Vice President of the Northern Kings MC, an army veteran, and if you want to stay safe tonight, then you’ll do as I say.”
But maybe I didn’t want to stay safe. Maybe, for once in my life, the danger of him was alluring. And fuck knew why.
“Ask rather than order, and you might find you’ll get somewhere.”
I knew I was pushing it. Pushing him. And it was a stupid thing to do. This man I didn’t know. A man always clad in leather, strutting around like he owned the place. A man, Dave, and the receptionist revered to the point of fear. Stupid. Very stupid. But consuming. Addictive. My blood boiled every time I set eyes on him. Half irritation, half something else that I knocked far, far away.