“If you’re afraid of me. If I let you see me—are you going to run?”
I blow out a breath, taking a second to let his question roll around in my head. Of course I’m afraid of him, but only because I don’t know who I’ll be at the end of this. He’s going to ruin me, I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his words. He wants me to fear him, it’s probably the only way he can let go. The only way he can feel, because something tells me that love isn’t an option for him.
“Yes.” That’s the honest truth.
He doesn’t blink—or breathe.
“But I’m not going anywhere. I can handle whatever it is.”
“I won’t be gentle. I don’t know how.” His words come out more like a question.
When I don’t respond he continues.
“And I can’t be changed. I don’t do romance, amore.”
Still, I stand my ground, unfazed by his protest. “What do you want?”
“To throw you up against that shelf and show you that fucking me is better than anything you’ll find in one of your little books.”
He stomps toward me, and I stumble back, pinning myself between him and the bookcase.
“I want to mark your skin with my handprint and wring every drop of cum from your cunt.”
I lose my wind, all of it, the feeling of suffocation taking over me. He’s in my space, so imposing as always. But I like it. I like the lust in his eyes. The fight he’s slowly losing the battle against.
“You want to hurt me—don’t you?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Only in the name of pleasure,” he adds reverently.
“Show me,” I whisper, but he hears me anyway.
Easton steps back, calm and collected, then pivots over to the door. The latch is loud when he locks it, the sound shooting through my body like lightning. He squares his shoulders and releases all the air in his lungs, but as he faces front again, darkness flashes in his eyes.
He plays with the tie around his neck, yanking the two ends apart, though, stopping briefly to pick up something from the counter on his way toward the back. It’s after dark, and the only light coming from the moon and the glow from my office. So while he walks in slow torturous strides, all I can see until he is in front of me is his silhouette.
My heart pounds with anticipation, fear, and uncertainty following right after it. Easton stares at me through hooded lids, and all I can think about is what I’ve gotten myself into. His hand is around my neck again, this time squeezing harder than he did earlier. My breath hitches, a near yelp leaving my lips from how fast he moves.
He kisses me long and hard with his tongue so far down my throat I can’t breathe. Easton lets go of my neck to hook his fingers under the hem of my top. He pulls it up and over my head, then drops it to the floor with the flick of his wrist.
Standing in front of him in only a bra and jeans, I feel raw, exposed, and cold. It’s summer, and the temperature is set to the perfect degree, so I know he’s the only reason my body is responding like this. The sheer thrill of what’s to come chipping away at me.
I want him, more than I have any other man in my life. Despite the way we met, despite the secrets, despite the crime, I want him. He’s finally giving me what I’ve asked for. He’s going to show mehim, and I’m scared shitless over it. But it’s something…it’s more than the cryptic conversations we normally have. It’s Easton and I’ll take it.
“Turn around,” he orders.
I swallow a gulp and slowly follow his instructions. He brings his body to mine, my back against his front, the scent of his cologne filling my lungs. I push away a shudder, willing my nerves to settle.
“Put your hair up.”
He reaches around and holds something out to me. I glance down at his open palm, realizing the thing he snagged from the counter was a rubber band. I take it from him and use it to secure my long brown waves into a knot atop my head. Easton grabs my wrists and positions them behind my back when I’m done, using his tie to bind me, the fabric rough on my skin.
Everything feels heightened, and he’s barely even started. Every stroke of his fingers over my now bare skin, the heat from his words against my neck, the erection in his pants that’s pressed into my ass, the feel of his rock-hard abs along my bound hands. I feel it all as my flesh burns hot in all the places he’s touched me.
Easton fiddles with the button and zipper of my jeans, and I jump initially but manage to collect myself.
“Relax, amore.”
I nod, feverishly.
