She nearly died once. Nothing like that can ever happen to Whitney again. But as long as she stayed in his life, in his twisted world, she would be a target. The only way for her to be safe—it was for him to keep his hands off her. For him to stay away.
For him to be the utter bastard that everyone knew him to be.
Her breath whispered out. “Were we lovers?” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Waited.
He could lie. Say no. Tell her that he’d never had her. But… “Of course,” he replied casually.
Her eyes widened. “We—we were?”
“Oh, yes.” His hand slid away from her. Went back to his side. Clenched into a fist. “We fucked dozens of times. Maybe even a hundred times. I wasn’t exactly counting.” He’d just been focused on sinking into her as deeply as he could go. “I had you in so many places. Once I fucked you on the bar top outside. On the pool table. I’ve had you in this room.” He rapped the desk with his fist. “Right here.”
If possible, her eyes got even bigger.
“I fucked you in my old car. On my motorcycle. On the beach. At your office. I fucked you in your bedroom, and we nearly broke your bed. I fucked you so many times that your body was tuned to me and only to me.”
She barely seemed to be breathing.
He should stop. He didn’t. I’m a bastard. “You like it dirty and rough, and you like to screw the worst criminal you can find. You get off on that, you know? The danger. Having sex with a man others say is a killer. You like to—”
“No.” Fast. Hard. “Stop it.”
Ramsey shrugged.
“You’re lying to me.”
He smiled. “What did you expect? For someone like me to tell you the truth? Where the hell is the fun in that?” His laugh was mocking and bitter. She wouldn’t get that he was mocking himself. “You really think someone like you hooked up with me? You practically scream innocence, while, baby, I’m more in the mood for sin.”
She put a hand to her stomach. “Coming here was a huge mistake.”
“Absolutely. I tried to tell you that.”
Her hand dropped. “I thought you could help me. You knew me.”
Those damn notes of hers. He’d have to get his hands on them and see just what she’d uncovered. “You want to know about our past? Fine. Once upon a time, you came into my bar. You wanted to observe the people here. It was for some damn research you had going on. I allowed you to stay for a while. End of story.”
“Why did I stop coming? Was I watching anyone in particular? Did I get involved with anyone here?”
His gut churned. “Lots of questions, and I’m pretty sure I only agreed to answer one.”
Her lips thinned. “You’re doing that thing again.”
Don’t ask. Don’t ask— “What thing?”
“Where you pretend to be an extra special type of bastard. I wish you’d stop.”
His lashes lowered to conceal his gaze. “Sweetheart, I’m extra all the time. Just as I am the worst bastard you will ever meet.” He had to get her out of there. It was taking all of his self-control not to reach out and touch her again. But if he touched her again, he would be kissing her. And if he kissed her, he would be keeping her.
It’s too dangerous. You have to get her gone.
“You don’t date the types of guys in this place, Dr. Whitney Augustine. You like safe guys. You even told me that shit once.” That part was true. Over the years, he’d found it was always easier to tell a blend of truth and lies.
“As far as you know, was I seeing anyone?”
Me. Only me. Because I wouldn’t let any other man get close to you. He shrugged. “Not like I was gonna keep track of your social life.”
Her hands went to her hips. “You are an exceedingly unhelpful man.”
“You’re welcome.”
She glared.
Stunning. Color had finally come back to her cheeks. She was sexy as hell, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone or anything in his entire life.
“Why won’t you help me?” Whitney demanded.
His chest burned. She was lost and he knew she was scared, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms. He wanted to protect her from every dangerous thing in the world.
That is exactly what I am trying to do. And he was helping. It just so happened that his helping routine made him look like he was an, ah, extra special type of bastard, as she’d put it. “There is no Prince Charming for you here. Is that what this is about?” He kept his voice mocking. “You read some bit in your notes about me, and you thought we’d shared something magical?”
“My notes. Yes.” A jerky nod. “I had notes saying you were a dangerous SOB who couldn’t be trusted.”
What? But his expression didn’t alter. “Yet you’re here…?”
“I told you, the files were corrupted. I thought there might be more to you—to me. To us.” She raked a hand through her hair. “I was desperate. Desperate times call for crazy measures, but I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t be bothering you again.”
You never bothered me. You just obsessed me. “I’ll have you escorted out to your car.”
“Not necessary.” She opened the door. “I can leave on my own.”
Then she walked away without looking back. As soon as she was gone…
He dropped his hands on the desktop. His body hunched forward.
No one had ever told him that being good would hurt so friggin’ much.
***
Whitney was blinking away tears—actual tears—as she rushed to her car. The parking lot was even more crowded than it had been before, and she was pretty much stumbling through people. Whitney ignored them as she beelined for her ride. Coming to Ramsey’s had been such a colossal mistake. She should have known better.
I needed help. And I was so sure…
Her hand swiped over her cheek.
“Hey, pretty lady!” A loud voice—loud and way too close—called out to her. “What’s the rush?”
She cut a glance to the side and saw a man with lots of piercings in his nose and ears start to swagger toward her. I do not need this now.
“Why don’t we go inside?” He hurried closer. Lifted his hand and curled it around her arm. “We can dance.” He rolled his hips.
God, I do not need this.
“Or we could just get straight down to business, and we could—”
“Get your hand off her. Now.” Ramsey roared.
The hand was immediately yanked off her. The guy swung toward Ramsey. “What—who—she—” He couldn’t seem to manage to put his words into any comprehensible form.
“She’s not touched. Ever. You put your fingers on her again, and I will break every single one of them.”
Whitney backed up. Rammed her ass into the bumper of her car.
“Sorry!” A squeak from the man with all the piercings. “I’m—”
Gone.
The guy had just full-out run across the parking lot.
Ramsey lunged as if he’d chase after him.
“Stop!” The order burst from her, and, surprisingly, at her cry, he did. Ramsey froze instantly. His hands were clenched. His body tight. And she could practically feel the fury crackling in the air around him.