Whitney tightened her arms over her chest, feeling the sudden urge to cover her nudity. Hicks had narrowed his deep eyes and the five o’clock shadow she’d thought so masculine and sexy earlier seemed more like a dark shadow across his face. He looked downright menacing.

“What I mean is no cops. I don’t trust them.” She spun on her heel and strode to her closet. Mindlessly, she yanked a scarlet sheath dress from the nearest hanger and pulled it over her head, sliding the material in place.

She could hear his heavy footsteps approaching her on the carpet, but she refused to look at him.

“Whitney, if you’re in some kind of trouble just tell me. Believe me, I’ve seen a lot worse.”

She closed her eyes and bent over, blindly reaching for a pair of wedges. She wanted to tell him the truth, but she was scared. She had to speak to the Senator ASAP and find out what was going on.

“Look, it’s not anything illegal—not in the least. It’s just…private.”

Whitney marched past Hicks’s mouth watering bare chest and perched on the corner of her bed, away from the gaping hole in the middle and put on her shoes. The NDA she’d signed was strict—if she blabbed, she’d lose all her money. Every hard-earned cent. She’d lose her dreams of starting up her own nonprofit. Of never having to rely on anyone else again.

She’d already taken a dangerous chance by calling the police about the car. They couldn’t know about this.

“Private like this?” Hicks ripped open the small closet to the right of the bathroom, revealing her leather and whips. The judgment in his voice made her feel like someone was hitting her with a crop.

For the tiniest second, she wanted to curl up into a little ball. A very, very tiny second. Then a raging ball of fury blasted through her veins. She shot to her feet, hands fisted at her sides. Through clenched teeth, she ground out, “Snooping through my things?”

He crossed his arms, effectively devastating. She couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles bulged even if she did hate him a little bit at the moment.

“I was looking for the cat. I had no idea you kept this kind of stuff lying around, otherwise I never would’ve offered.”

Oh, so he’d seen her gear and it had disgusted him? Maybe he thought he knew who she was…what made her tick…

He was wrong.

She practically purred and squeezed up closer to him, invading his personal space, purposefully draping a hand over his crossed arms, tracing the coarse hair that covered it. “You don’t like to get a little spanking every now and then, big boy?” She intentionally dropped her voice down to a sexy purr.

He stared down at her without blinking, his nearly expressionless face showing only a hint of disgust. Hell, she could put up with a lot of shit, but she wouldn’t put up with hypocrites. “You were so ready to crawl inside me just a minute ago. Don’t tell me a little female strength turned you off.” Knowing she was playing with fire, but too pissed off to care, she wrapped her fingers around his biceps and squeezed.

Hicks inclined his head, and her heart skipped a beat, her treacherous body begging for him to kiss her again.

“That was before I realized what kind of person you are.”

Her lust evaporated and her mouth went dry. She’d dealt with assholes like this her whole life. It wasn’t a surprise, necessarily, but it was a disappointment. “Your cock sure seems to think differently.” Her hand crept below his bellybutton.

Hicks grabbed her wrist in a viselike grip, stopping her before she could reach the top button of his pants. “My cock isn’t that discriminatory, but I am.” He pushed her away from him, causing her to take a step back and stumble.

She felt like a giant fist had punched inside her chest. Why? Why did she care what he thought of her? She’d only known him for an hour.

Whitney went to the closet and extracted a short, flat-headed crop, testing its weight in her hand. Then she placed the tip near her throat and traced a line down the middle of her body. Hicks’s eyes followed it like a puppy after a bone. Oh, he was definitely interested.

He could pretend to be all high and mighty, but she could see the hidden desire in his dark blue eyes. Whether he was disgusted by her or not, he still wanted her. They all did. And she’d use that to play him just like she did everyone else. With a little smirk, she sauntered past him back into her closet to pack.

Feeling Hicks’s gaze on her, she returned to the small closet to hang the crop back up, grabbed her overnight bag from the bathroom, and zipped up her brown Louis Vuitton carryall. Standing with her hand on her hip, she gave him a few seconds to admire her figure before she slung the bag over her shoulder and sauntered back toward him. “I’m ready. Let me find Tiger and we can go.”

His eyes darkened, fixing on a point just past her shoulder. “Hurry up. I don’t have all night.”

She brushed past him, head down, to cover up a small twinge of hurt. Part of her had thought they were still going to his place.

Well, she was used to being judged as wicked. Her parents thought the same thing, and she’d stopped caring what they thought years ago. This dumb grunt soldier could believe whatever he wanted, and she wouldn’t bat an eye.

Tiger appeared over the back of her ripped up couch and sprung into Whitney’s outstretched arms. At least one man in her life wouldn’t judge her.

“Come on,” Hicks turned and strode out of her apartment without a backward glance. The protective hero vibe he’d emanated earlier disappearing with each step. She’d certainly thought he was a gentleman earlier, but a gentleman wouldn’t have snarled at someone like her.

A gentleman would have waited to pass judgment until he knew the full truth.