A gentle kisspulls me out of my reverie. I sense her rolling out of bed, and my arm shoots out to her, snatching her back to me.
She giggles—the sound rings of divine music in the ears of the biggest sinner.
“Where were you going?” I ask, my voice groggy with sleep and gruff with demand.
She palms my chest. “To shower, letting you sleep a while longer. But I see you’re wide awake.” The vixen smiles, staring at my cock that tents the covers as if coaxing her inside to play.
“Do you always sleep naked?” she murmurs, her pupils dilating.
Chest heaving with her rapid breathing, the pulse in her neck flickers. Her body betrays her lust so beautifully that it increases mine.
At the visual, my cock gets bigger, eager to slip inside her folds and ruin her for anyone else.
She must be sore.Get a grip, motherfucker.You’ll have your fun.
Only the thought douses my insides in kerosene, flaming me up.
“Yes,” I groan. “And so will you in my bed.”
She hums. “Bossy.”
I cross my arms behind my neck, smirking. “You knew that, and it didn’t stop you. You get what you want, but I take what I want.”
A blush covers her cheeks. After this week in my bed, it will completely disappear.
I shouldn’t love the idea of corrupting her this much, but I do. It is blatantly clear. Sinners corrupt, and innocents surrender to the alluring pull. Temptation drives people to sin. Surely that’s why hell is full.
Even in the afterlife, I want to bind her to me.
Her stomach growls, and she palms her belly, redirecting my focus to feeding my woman.
“Come on. Clean up and then food,” I suggest, rolling out of bed.
“Will you bathe with me?” she asks softly, the hope in her voice unmistakable.
One week. One fucking week. It won’t be enough to sustain me, but I doubt even eternity with her would.
“We’ll do it all,” I say, like I vow, stretching out my hand for her.
She catches the unspoken words, both of us aware but ignoring that time is running out.
Dahlia grips mine, and I pull her to my chest, fitting perfectly like it’s her place.
She cranes her neck, looking up at me. “I want to visit your home.”
I should write a list to make sure I don’t forget anything she wants. This week she’ll get whatever her heart desires.
“Done.”
She chews on her lower lip. “Maybe we should be more careful and not draw attention.”
“Leave it to me,” I say, cupping her chin and rubbing my thumb along her soft cheek to reassure her. Delirium infects my brain, and I couldn’t care less.
Walking toward the bathroom, she sways her hips in front of me. I catch up, smacking her ass, the contact making her yelp. Seeing the print there turns me into a madman—more animal than human.Rein yourself in. But damn, I don’t know how and if I can.
Turning on the water in the tub, I rummage through the cabinet and find some scented oils, then squirt some in.
It’s a clawfoot tub, which I doubt can fit us both.
