The Gender Game 2 by Bella Forrest (audio ebook reader .TXT) 📕

that were leaking blood—but I did. It took me a moment to jerk out of it.

I grabbed the packet and began pouring it over her wounds. She watched me from the corner of her eye, but I worked quickly, reminding myself she needed medical attention. Then I handed her my packet and turned around.

I tensed as I felt her finger press against each bite, applying the powder directly. I suddenly recalled the night we had kissed in my cabin, and the bite of her nails and fingers as she dug into my shoulders, our mouths devouring each other.

I was tired—exhausted, really—and incredibly attracted to her right now. It was difficult to maintain control at that moment.

As soon as she was done, I snatched the packet from her hands and retreated to my room, grating out a very insincere thank you as I did so. As I closed the door, I saw her smirk at me, a mischievous twinkle playing in her luminous gray eyes, and I grit my teeth, closing the door.

I got dressed quickly. The clothes were dirty and soaked with blood, but it was all I had. While I dressed, I tried to get Violet’s bare skin and the feel of her hands on my back out of my head. It was hard, but I managed.

I opened the door and stepped into the hall, to find Violet waiting. “You ready?” I asked, keeping my voice more clipped than necessary.

She nodded, and pulled her gun out of her pocket, checking the magazine. I did the same.

We stood there for a second, staring at each other. Violet went up on her tip toes and pressed her mouth against mine for a chaste kiss.

“Sorry,” she whispered as she lowered herself back down.

I nodded wordlessly, and nodded my head to the door, unable to speak for fear of unleashing all of my pent up passion on her. She nodded, and headed toward the door while I followed from behind, trying to keep my mind on the mission at hand.

22

Violet

I didn’t know what I had been doing teasing Viggo like that. It had to be some form of temporary insanity brought on by sleep deprivation. It hadn’t been intentional, but when I had heard his breathing change after I turned and presented my back, I felt a flush of pleasure that I could make him respond to me like that.

I had to touch him. He never said that we couldn’t apply the powder directly, so I did, taking my time to dab it on each wound. His back was sculpted and muscular, just like his front. The track of his spine was a deep valley that ran from his neck to his tailbone, and framed by two divots in his lower back.

I had been so mesmerized by those divots that I almost forgot that there was a medical need for him to be exposed to me.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts from the intense urges overcoming me. My exhaustion was causing a clear impulse control problem in me. At least, I hoped it was the exhaustion.

The thought that I couldn’t control myself around Viggo frightened me. It gave him a power over me, one that would make me vulnerable. I couldn’t trust it.

My hands were shaking as I finished applying the medicine. I felt guilty as he moved away from me, his eyes downcast.

It was why I had apologized. We hadn’t really talked about us. Save for a few kisses that had completely unhinged me, I had no idea where we stood. The dynamic had certainly shifted, but that didn’t mean that he necessarily was interested in me like that, right?

Not to mention, I had been part of a plot to set him up. He was struggling with it: I could tell from his actions and reactions. Yet there was something there—some chemistry that kept drawing us together. He had to feel it too, gauging from his reaction in the hallway. I just wasn’t sure if it was even possible at this point. I had betrayed his trust in a very intimate way—was there any coming back from that?

I quietly laughed at myself as I pushed open the door. My brooding was useless: I was focusing on the wrong thing. I could deal with my feelings about Viggo later. Right now, we needed to check out this facility.

The next door led to a stairwell, leading down. Like the previous level of the facility, it had a very industrial feel to it. The steps were corrugated metal but solid. I moved down the stairs, keeping the wall at my back. Looking down the next flight, I saw another door waiting.

Still no sign of people. Come to think of it—I didn’t see any cameras either. Frowning, I examined the ceiling closely, looking for anything that loosely resembled a security feature.

“Viggo, do you see any cameras or anything?” I asked.

He looked around, his green eyes searching. After a moment, he frowned. “No. That’s weird.”

I nodded in wordless agreement. This facility was designed for secrecy—it was built in a place no one could easily survive—so why wouldn’t they put up cameras to ensure that no one accidentally stumbled upon it?

That could explain why no one had come up to confront us though.

I moved down the steps to the next door, Viggo following me. We exchanged a glance, and pulled it open. He moved in first, and I followed.

This level had a similar configuration to the first, without the suit chamber at the end. As a result, the hall was longer. Unlike the medical suites, there were no windows on the wall, just door after door. The floor was also covered in a deep navy carpet. Viggo opened the first door on the left, revealing a bedroom. I opened the one on the right, revealing another bedroom.

I stepped inside. There was an inner door, leading to a bathroom, a wardrobe, a desk, and a bookshelf. It was cozy, almost homey, with personal touches