But his expression is gentle as he reaches out and gently holds my chin, guiding my face toward his. “Does your anger spring from fear? You’re scared . . . of what? Are you scared that if you let people get too close they’ll hurt you? Or is it that you think you’ll hurt them? Tell me, Bell. Have you ever hurt someone you care for? Maybe even someone you love?”

“Stop.” The word shoots out of my mouth before I can suppress it. This isn’t a turn I want the conversation to take.

His fingers lace through my hair, running through the waves of black. “I suspect you believe that all men are enemies in one way or another.” His gaze moves from my eyes to my lips. “That’s all right,” he says softly. “I’ll change your thinking. That’s already starting.”

“Your ego is unreal.”

“It’s not about ego. It’s about observation. I’m learning you. I’m learning your mind.” He kisses my forehead. “And I’m learning your body.” He leans in and kisses my neck.

He finds that spot, right at the base near the shoulder, his tongue darting out, sending little shivers down my spine. “You don’t have to act tough for me, Bell,” he says, whispering the words against my skin.

“I don’t have to do anything,” I say, my hands going to his shoulders, my fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket. “I don’t even have to listen to you.”

He picks me up and puts me down on the table. My legs are open as he steps between them, his hand now on the back of my neck as I look up at him.

He nuzzles his face in my hair before moving down to my ear, grazing my earlobe with his teeth.

Gently, I pull his jacket from him, tossing it onto the floor.

“Careful, warrior,” he says as his hands move up and down my back. “I have to wear these clothes all day.”

I grab his tie and pull him to me, smiling. “Not my problem.” I reach down with one hand and let it run over his erection before pulling his belt free and dropping it on top of his jacket.

He raises his eyebrows, pulls my top off, and throws it down. “Now we’ll both look guilty. Tell me, when Travis sees your wrinkled clothes, your mussed hair, your smeared lipstick . . . How will you explain that to your employer? Will he question you? Will you lie?”

“I won’t have to lie,” I say as I undo his pants and then yank them down, pausing long enough to allow him to step out of them. “I don’t have to explain myself to anyone.”