Page 32 of Shattered Hearts
I glare. Didn’t she hear me? “We’re leavingnow. Don’t be uncooperative.”
“I’m being uncooperative?” She raises her eyebrows. “It will take less than five minutes. Just sit.”
Despite my irritation, I follow Riley’s instructions. Everything in me wants to throw her over my shoulder, dump her in a cab, and head back to the estate, but the reason I don’t is because Riley reminds me so much of Bri right now, it’s arresting. My last wife was the only woman to ever patch me up, and the notion that Riley wants to knocks me on my ass.
Damn her.
“I’ve treated enough people at the shelter to handle minor injuries like these.”
I resist the urge to gape while she applies creams, balms, and bandages to my cuts and bruises.
Instead, I focus on her knees pressed together between mine. I’m sitting in the armchair, and she’s perched on the coffee table in front of me with her lunch box full of first aid supplies.
Gazing at her knees should be less erotic than gazing at her open mouth, but not when I keep imagining pushing those knees apart and giving her pussy a good taste.
She’s wearing a brightly patterned sundress to imitate her sister. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to shove my hands under the soft material and explore.
Eyes up, jackass.“What shelter?”
“The women’s shelter where I work.”
The desire to kiss her surges in me like an oncoming storm. For the first time in years, I feel my heart beating, hard and heavy, like all the cement I poured in there to numb the pain of losing Bri has begun to crack.
Time to go.
I stand without warning.
“Finn, I’m not finished?—”
“I am. Time’s up.”
My expression must be rough because surprise mingles with fear in Riley’s upturned eyes.
Good. You should be afraid.Her terror will protect her from my darkness. My disappointment converts to angry satisfaction.
Her proximity, skillfulness, and compassion are toxic to me. They transform me into a wolf, fighting an animal instinct to pounce and feast on her goodness like I haven’t had a meal in years. Entangling myself any further with Riley will only snuff out her light.
“But—”
“Get your ass downstairs in the next five minutes, or I’ll make you.”
She narrows her eyes. “Is that any way to speak to your sister-in-law?”
God, this woman frustrates the fuck out of me.
I snatch her chin between my thumb and forefinger and force her face up, so that her startled eyes lock onto mine. “Talk back to me one more time, and I can’t be held responsible for what I’ll do to you.” The words pass my lips in a gritty growl.
My threat proves effective. She doesn’t say another word to me in the minutes that stretch from our leaving her apartment and our arrival back at the estate.
Finally. A threat that shuts her up.
I can focus on the task at hand. Riley, dressed as Harper, will see and be seen around the mansion to keep up appearances while I go talk to Shane and Thomas about the attack.
I’m honestly not sure which of us has the harder task.
The cab drops us off and we use the estate’s pedestrian entrance. The moment we pass through the mansion’s front door, Riley and I part ways.
Apparently, another one of her strengths is the silent treatment. If she wants to, Riley Brennan knows how to act as though I don’t exist. While she’ll be safer that way, I still have to bite back my annoyance as I march up the grand staircase to the second floor.