Or someone with no heart at all?
His stance isn’t defensive. It’s alert. He’s always bracing for the attack—for the hate, the pain.
He expects evil because that’s all he’s ever known, and even if it makes me a fool, I want to show him It doesn’t have to be that way.
Chapter 9
I take small steps toward him, slow and cautious, like a child approaching a caged beast.
His eyes scan me as I move, and I know that if I were an enemy, I’d already be dead. But I’m not. I’m the girl who’s loved him for as long as I can remember. The foolish one, in love with the monster, while anyone else would’ve run the other way.
I glance at his strong arms wrapped in a leather jacket. It’s one of those expensive-looking ones. Everything about him screams money.
I don’t care what he wears; to me, those arms mean safety and protection. I want to feel them around me. I want his touch—even if it’s just for one night.
By the way he’s looking at me, I know he can tell exactly what I’m thinking. Lucifer finally gets it. I probably should feel embarrassed for being so exposed, but I’ve come too far to back down now.
I close the final bit of distance between us.
I wobble slightly. I’d be lying if I said I was one hundred percent sober.
His face stays still—only his eyes scan me, piercing.
I lift mine to meet his. “Kiss me.”
I breathe him in—leather and man—and it makes me dizzy. But I know it’s not just the alcohol.
“Go to bed, Jackie. You didn’t mean that. I shouldn’t have come here.”
The sting of rejection, the one time I finally dared to show myself, hits so hard I have to back away. Maybe it’s the damn whiskey making me extra sensitive, but if I don’t run, I’m going to cry right in front of him.
I’m nearly at the bedroom door when his voice stops me.
“You’re confused because I’ve looked after you for so many years,” he starts, using such a careful tone it makes me angry. I want him as he is—not treating me like I’m fragile. “I’m not a hero, Jackie. I’m the darkness. I kill people, and I don’t care. I don’t lose sleep over it. I don’t feel guilt. I have nothing to give you. And even if I did, I don’t see you—”
I turn to face him before he can finish.
Yes, I’m a fool. I’ve spent years in love with a teenage fantasy, but I’m not stupid. Lucifer didn’t pull me off that dance floor out of duty. He was jealous.
“You wanted me,” I accuse, throwing all caution to hell. “Today, when you dragged me away from those guys, you were jealous. Because for the first time, you finally saw that I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m going to tear you out of me, Lucifer. I made a promise to myself. I want to look back on today and remember how idioti—”
I misjudged how fast he could move. One second, we were still two meters apart. The next, he’s got me pinned against the wall, my body flush with the hardness of his.
“You have no idea what you’re asking me for.”
“Maybe not. But I need to know what you taste like. I’ve dreamed about this since I was fifteen. I—”
His hand comes up, open, resting at my neck, holding my head still. His eyes scan my face—looking for what, I don’t know. My whole body is trembling with anticipation.
I part my lips and wait. And then I melt as his mouth crashes into mine, hot and filthy. He bites, then sucks my bottom lip, and the hunger in me is so violent I sink my teeth into him too, grabbing at his shaved head, desperate to touch any part of him I can.
I whimper when his demanding tongue thrusts into my mouth and his free hand pins mine above my head. One of his powerful thighs wedges between mine, and I ride it without shame.
He growls, his grip at my throat tightening. I give myself up completely, desperate to finally satisfy this hunger I’ve carried for years.
Lucifer releases my hand and grabs a handful of my ass, squeezing hard enough to hurt—but it’s the kind of pain that turns me on, soaking the center of my panties.
He forces me to grind against his thigh, giving me the friction I crave. The pressure on my clit is overwhelming, and combined with his tongue in my mouth and his hand on my neck, I explode in a powerful orgasm.
