I press the tip harder. A sharp pinch. Wetness.
Her breath escapes in a hiss, her eyes snared at my throat, at the blood trickling down my neck.
“Go on,” I rasp, “I started it for you. Press harder. One cut and I’ll bleed out in twenty seconds.”
Her hand shakes, her eyes darting from my face to my neck.
“You’re nuts.” Her pretty pink tongue dips out to wet her lips.
I grind out a guttural groan. The perfect Cupid’s bow. The soft bottom curve. I can almost taste her sweetness.
“Are you going to do it? Or are you going to waste my time?” My throat is parched, and I swallow.
The air vibrates, each molecule incandescent. Nothing matters except for the woman in my arms.
“Let’s save the foreplay for our wedding night.” My voice is rough. Sandpaper.
The letter opener clatters to the floor.
“I’llneversleep with you.” Her chest moves up and down, up and down. My blood heats, pooling in my groin as I press closer, just a tiny inch, to feel her tight body throbbing against mine.
“Never say never.” I swallow another groan, my mind blurring at the edges. “Maybe you’ll enjoy it. Beg me for it.”
Her tongue darts out again.
Static blows out my hearing.
Just a taste, Elias. A tiny taste.She wants it. Dilated eyes. Flushed face. Those tight little nipples beading under her shirt.
She’sstillwearing my shirt. My housekeeper bought her a new sweater and leggings, but the sick, twisted monster inside me wanted to parade her around in my clothes.
Lana’s eyes drop to my mouth. She doesn’t notice it, but she’s swaying her body against mine—gentle grazes, soft gyrations—like she needs the touch as much as I do.
She may hate my guts and want to kill me in my sleep, but her body?
It wants me.
Male satisfaction suffuses me, and before I completely lose my mind, I release her and step back.
She flinches, eyes wide with shock and arousal.
“Let’s get this over with.” I pivot and walk upstairs toward Maxwell’s study before I change my mind.
The man himself meets us at the top of the stairs. In a wheelchair, with a gun perched on his lap, aimed at me. He looks pale, his forehead beading with sweat.
But those intense eyes—theAnderson gray eyes?
They’re lethal and strong. They promise I won’t walk out of this building alive.
Rex stands behind him, a gun in his hand.
“Maxwell,” Lana gasps, flying over to her brother and throwing her arms around his neck. She scans his bandaged torso before hugging him again. “You’re okay. Oh my God, you’re okay.”
“Lana,” Maxwell murmurs, brushing his free hand down her back. “I was so worried about you.”
She trembles and shakes her head. “No,Iwas worried. It’s all my fault. I should’ve known Elias was up to no good. I shouldn’t have met him alone. I should’ve—”
“No.” His voice hardens. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I found him in the alley, bleeding, with a knife buried in his gut.”
