Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
It feels like a rebellion. Against my father. Matteo. All the rules that have been set for me. I have no control over my future, but in this moment, I have a choice. I could call for the guards. I could scream, and they would come to my rescue. Or I could run toward the fire and let the devil himself pull me down to hell.
“You know you have a debt to pay,” he tells me, the words dripping over me like honey.
My legs squeeze together, and his fingers tighten reflexively around my face. The scent of citrus, cloves, and leather stirs a distant memory, shadowed by a thousand others. They crash around my brain, colliding with each other until my heart cracks open. In a desperate bid for self-preservation, I close my eyes and take shelter from the pain.
His gloved hand slides down the column of my neck, caressing me there as he commands my attention.
“What should I collect as payment?”
My eyes snap open, and time suspends itself as he studies the chaotic rhythm of my pulse, weighing his options. Does he want to extinguish the light in me forever or satisfy his revenge in the most primitive way?
I’d choose the latter.
His gaze drops, tracing the curves of my breasts. When his thumb scrapes over the pointed fabric, it sends a shockwave through my entire body. He stares at the expanse of cotton separating him from my naked flesh, the silence stretching with tension. He doesn’t want to want me.
I realize it when a low, frustrated growl escapes him.
For a moment, I’m not sure which side of him will win. But he slips his gloved fingers beneath the material, groping me with a roughness that betrays his low-simmering anger. I sense that it’s a step too far for him in his mental tug of war, but even that’s not enough. He draws the fabric all the way up, exposing my breasts to cool air and the scorching heat of his gaze.
How many times did I think about Angelo doing this when we were together? I wanted him to see every inch of me. I wanted him to ache for me with the same intensity I felt every time I looked at his stupidly beautiful face. He was too much of a gentleman then.
The man who sits beside me now has unshackled all civility and restraint.
Liquid heat soaks into my panties as my imagination runs wild with the thought of him claiming every part of me. His size and strength would probably tear me in half, but there are far worse ways to die.
My legs part, tempting him with a silent invitation.
Seconds tick by, and my heart feels like it’s in my throat as he drags it out.
“Is this what you want, Abella?” He slides his gloved hand down into my panties and strokes me there. “Has your fiancé left you so unsatisfied you have to resort to begging random men?”
“If it gets the job done,” I reply, my voice still hoarse from sleep. “Besides, you went to all the trouble of setting the mood.”
“How many?” Something dangerous edges his voice, and I know I shouldn’t goad him, but I’m feeling a little dangerous too.
“Why? Should I start offering queue tickets?”
His hand stills inside my panties as he wraps the other one around my throat, rigid fingers pressing into the delicate flesh in warning. It’s a punishment and a gift, another item from my bucket list of bad ideas.
I lay there and let him choke me, and he shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re sucking all the fun out of it, cara.”
“That’s too bad,” I wheeze. “I’m having a great time.”
He waits me out, watching me squirm in frustration as his fingers rest where I need them most. Meanwhile, the edges of my vision start to blur, and my heartbeat drums in my ears. Everything amplifies. The sound of my shallow breaths. The tingling of my nerve endings. The rush of heat when he finally rewards me with the friction of his fingers.
My entire world narrows to a single focus until the only thing that exists is him. The press of his fingers. The unyielding vice around my throat. The warm brush of his arm across my stomach. The lack of oxygen heightens all my senses, and every stroke feels like a spark.
I’m on a razor’s edge—caught between madness and desire. Every survival instinct in my body is screaming danger, while the darkness whispers for me to surrender.
I’m drunk on his power as I meet his stare, silently imploring him to keep me safe even as he threatens to destroy me. I want to trust him. The thought is so ludicrous, I should slap myself.
He proves it when his fingers bite deeper into my throat, and he watches the light slowly drain from my eyes. Blackness creeps in, and panic whirls through me as I buck against him, reaching for him in the darkness.