Our tongues explore as our hands search for purchase. We’re each other’s life raft, and we’re fighting like hell to climb aboard.
I pull back for air. Glancing around the room, my gaze falls on the slumped body of the rat in the chair.
I know I’m one twisted fuck, but even I have my limits.
Once I get a good grip on her ass, I hoist her up. She wraps her legs around my waist, hooking her ankles behind my back.
“Let’s get out of here.” That’s all I manage between kisses.
I head toward the door, relying on muscle memory since I can barely tear my eyes off her. No way am I fucking this woman with Domenico Verone’s dead body just feet away.
I wind through the halls, holding her up with one hand spread across the bottom of her ass and using the other to grope along the wall.
I bring her into the rudimentary office space, where there’s a door and a couch.
I toe open the door, slam it shut, and with a little fancy maneuvering, manage to turn the lock.
This sure as shit isn’t the Desmond. No plush comforters or candles or ambient music here. Hell, this isn’t even a state-of-the-art facility that reeks of chlorine and bleach.
It’s a dingy, abandoned office in a seedy part of town. Not usually a place of romance.
I lie her back on the roomy couch before straddling her thighs. Not the most comfortable mattress, but it’s all I can offer for now.
She passed my test with flying colors, so I’ll take her somewhere nicer later.
Cat’s panting so heavily that I worry she might pass out.
I sit back on my heels to give her a second.
“What are you doing?” Her wide eyes appear lost as she stares at me.
“Just…looking at you. Seeing you.”
Even dressed like this, with her hair in tangled knots, she’s ethereal.
She just killed a man. Took vengeance for her father and agreed to ally herself with me.
I’ve never been more aroused, but more than that…
I don’t know what else to say. A strange, unfamiliar ache curls in my chest, soothed only when I get closer to her.
I can’t bare my soul. I wouldn’t even know how.
Honestly, for the longest time, I didn’t think I had a soul at all.
Cat understands, though. From within the dark halo of her hair, she smiles. “I see you too.”
Grabbing my hand, she slides it between her thighs. When I realize she’s wet and leaking through the romper, I groan. Cat sits up to unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants. Then she hooks her fingers inside the waist of my jeans and boxers and tugs them down.
My mind keeps going over what just happened—Cat killed a man because I told her to—but apparently, my dick’s far past that, red and veined and aching for her.
Cat opens her mouth and takes me in down to the base, sucking hard and swirling her tongue. She wants me as badly as I want her.
Her mouth is so warm…
“Son of a bitch, Cat. That feels amazing.” My fingers weave into her hair. Though the strands are damp and tangled, she’s never looked more beautiful.
For once, I can cede control. I don’t need the dominance, the authority. I don’t need to dictate exactly how this encounter goes.
