Instead, we both get dressed on opposite sides of the couch, and I have to fight the urge to inhale the scent of both of us even deeper. The lingering smell of sex and masculine energy. Sweat and musk. Some perfect blend of both of us.
“What happened…can’t happen again,” I say quietly, not looking at him.
“Whatever you want.” Soren’s voice is further away.
I look up to see that he’s heading toward the door of the warehouse.
“Where are you going?” I ask, my voice far more concerned than I intend.
“I’ve got some Carvels to talk to, remember?” he says.
I start walking over to him. “We haven’t decided what you’re going to ask,” I remind him in return.
He scoffs. “I got this, don’t worry about it. Long as your little stunt tonight hasn’t gotten back to them, should be fine.”
I look Soren over, from his head to his feet back to his dark eyes, and I see something there I haven’t seen before. It’s wavering and off. I can’t tell what it is, but I know what it’s not.
Honesty.
10
Soren
If I’d known I was going to be fucking Carmine Dresvanni at the crack of dawn, I would’ve brought a lunch box or something. I’m fucking starving as I make my way through town to the Carvels’ house.
The first thing I’m going to do when I get back home is make a massive sandwich and shove it in my face. Or, maybe I’ll order a pizza on the way back…
Damnit, I’m spending way too much time thinking about food and not enough time thinking about the hell just happened.
I absolutely railed Carmine on a couch in a Dresvanni warehouse, only for him to have some kind of emotional outburst afterward.
Honestly, I’m not surprised. I really shouldn’t be at least. The guy is going through it.
That’s not what concerns me. Well, okay, it’s not the only thing that concerns me.
If my uncle finds out what I did with Carmine, who knows what he’ll want me to do next. He could demand that I seducehim to death just as easily as he could order me to stay away from him…
Maybe I should.
Maybe it’s more of a risk than I should be taking…getting close to Carmine like this.
It’s what I’m supposed to be doing, but there’s just one problem.
I like it.
As I head up the driveway only to pound on the Carvel family’s door, I’m thinking about seeing Carmine again. Watching all of his blood that’s not in his dick go to his face. Flushing him pink and splotchy as I pound into him. As I wrap my large hand around his throat and squeeze until he’s gasping for air.
I wonder… Can I make him beg? How desperate could I make the man who can’t admit he likes what we did together?
How much blood could I spill before he begged me to lick it up?
What dark and depraved things run through his mind?
Or do they?
They have to. I refuse to believe I’m the only one thinking about killing and fucking him in the same moment.
About screwing him until he’s limp and pressing a blade to his throat…
