Watching others wallow in defeat.
A family trait.
A proven method of success.
A necessary evil to obtain the utmost power and financial gain.
As before, none of the above applied to Vanessa. At least not in the way I’d set out to enjoy.
She pushed away, not out of hesitance, but simply as a testament to her desires never to succumb. The look in her eyes was different, still a test yet something deeper.
Darker.
We stood silently, enjoying the taste of Kentucky whiskey. This was a different line drawn in the sand. When I took the glass from her fingers, she immediately clenched them into a fist. Her breath remained scattered and she shored her shoulders as if preparing for an attack.
Maybe that’s what I had planned, typical for me. Only with a beautiful woman, I used methods of seduction and filth. Yes, I would continue doing so with her and the earlier proclamation I’d meant.
She would eventually beg me to fuck her.
But not now.
This was still midway through the adventures of a cat and mouse. When I gripped her arm, yanking her close, she rose onto her tiptoes, the defiance in her eyes flashing.
My cock twitching.
My heartrate rising.
As soon as I shifted my hand to the back of her neck, she gasped. Not from pain, but from excited anticipation.
I crushed my lips over hers, immediately tasting the tang of bourbon on her breath that seemed so much sweeter. She rolled her hand over my shoulder, tangling her fingers into my hair, the slight tug amusing.
Perhaps the wildcat believed she would best me in the carnal games.
She was wrong.
The competitive thought faded as her body molded into mine, her soft curves a perfect fit. The scent of her perfume mixing with the dark hint of desire was overwhelming. At this point, my cock was aching to the point of sheer pain.
I would never be able to get enough of her.
As the kiss became rougher, even more passionate, all thoughts of the contract and the fake marriage faded.
We both felt a presence only seconds later, our bodies stiffening at the same time. With the moment broken, we turned our heads toward the door.
Donovan stood in the entrance, his expression pinched and his body swaying. I’d seen the look before. I knew exactly what came next. My brother had needed help.
And I hadn’t given it to him, at least not in the way he’d needed.
Karma was reminding me I was a son of a bitch.
“Donovan,” Vanessa whispered with apprehension in her voice.
He studied me, his gaze full of anger, but when he looked away, the smell of defeat was in the air, but perhaps also something else.
The hunger to lose the chain wrapped around his neck.
“Any chance I can get some food?” he asked.
Vanessa let out a sigh of relief. “I think we can make that happen. Yes?” Her question was directed at me.
