“They hadn’t spoken in years,” she whispers. “Just one time after Kingston left, where Dad begged him to come back and explain his side of the story. That was it, and you killed them for it, and now you’re going to kill me for the same reason.”
My chest tightens the way it only ever has when Chloe is involved, and I internally berate myself. We do not care about her. She means nothing to us.
Chloe tries to look away from me, but before I can catch myself, I have her pinned beneath me. My hips hold hers in place, my hands pressed on either side of her head.
Her breath hitches at the move, something between hate and lust flashing through the pretty green that became my favorite color when I was too young to understand why.
“Damon,” she warns, but I don’t miss the way her voice shakes.
“Yes, Duchess?”
“What are you doing?”
I dip my head until our lips are so close I can almost taste her, and I fucking want to.
I’m desperate to know what she tastes like, to take her mouth in a rough kiss the way I’ve dreamed of.
But instead I drag my lips over hers in the softest of touches, satisfying the beast that is ever present when she’s near.
For years I’ve kept my need for her at bay. The line between hate and love blurry when it comes to her. But soon her life will come to an end, and I refuse to let that happen before I know what she tastes like.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I murmur against her lips.
She presses her hands to my chest, and for a moment I think she’s going to shove me away. I wouldn’t blame her, I am the reason for most of the bad things that have ever happened to her. But instead, her fingers grasp the fabric of my shirt, holding me in place.
“You can deny it all you want, but you and I both know you’ve always wanted me every bit as much as I’ve wanted you.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHLOE
NOW
Damon tastes like honey and sin, and given the opportunity, I would become addicted to it.
His tongue drags over my lips, demanding entry, and I don’t hesitate to give it to him.
A deep groan rumbles through his chest as he deepens our kiss, taking everything he needs from my mouth. The kiss is all tongue and teeth, the hate and lust that’s lived between us all these years coming to a head.
I’ve imagined this moment far more than I’ll ever admit, but my imagination pales in comparison to the real thing.
It’s not lost on me that for the last ten years I’ve kept every man at arm’s length, never allowing them close enough to touch me, let alone kiss me, and yet here I am with the second man in as many days devouring me.
Hardness grinds against my leg, dragging me from my thoughts of Ryker. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt Damon’s erection, but there’s something different this time.
Maybe it’s because we’re older, or perhaps it’s that we’re not at his fucking engagement party.
Regardless, this time I let myself enjoy every grind, every swipe of his tongue, every bite to my lips.
I used to feel guilty about my conflicting feelings for Damon, but now it doesn’t matter. Because in a few days I’ll be dead, and there’s no place for guilt in the afterlife. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I bite down on his bottom lip, dragging my teeth along the soft pillow.
It’s not lost on me what a vulnerable position he has me in. The soundproof room. The chain around my ankle. The fact he could snap my neck without breaking a sweat. But there’s something about those things that drives my need higher, my body leading for once instead of allowing my mind to steer us to a safer path.
“You taste so fucking good, Duchess,” he groans, his hips grinding down on my thigh.
“You’re still an asshole,” I snap before taking his lips in another filthy kiss.
He chuckles. “You’re a brat, you know that?”
