Page 54 of Bleed with Me

I’m going to cry, I thought, wanting to tear my hair out from pure helplessness that clutched my insides.

I couldn’t touch a woman, not only this beautiful, dark-haired, green-eyed woman with the body of a goddess who stared at me pitiably, but any woman at all. My brain had suppressed every trace of affection for anyone but her. So when Leigh pulled off my shirt, the first thought that came to me, vexingly, was to cut off her hands.

She had no right to undress me. And then my dick decided to call in sick and refused to cooperate. I had a stunning woman sticking her chest into my face, and I almost threw up.

What the bloody fuck was wrong with me? I always loved playing with titties.

Sighing exasperatedly, I rubbed my eyes, peeking at Leigh stretched on the bed beside me from between my fingers. Her cream-colored flesh contrasted with the dark sheets and long, straight hair spread around her head like a halo. She teasingly opened her toned legs, smiling seductively as her hand slowly traveled down her flat abdomen to her pussy.

She looked like every man’s fantasy, but it just didn’t work on me. My eyes appreciated the view, but that was pretty much it. My cock had no intention of waking up, and my brain pushed images of another very intense encounter into the forefront of my mind.

Maybe, if she wore leather, I mused, my brows furrowing while I watched Leigh massage her breast.

But nothing. No temptation, no curiosity, no desire to bridge the space between us appeared. She could’ve vanished from the bed entirely, and my pulse wouldn’t have changed. The place where the passion and craving for her should’ve been was hollow.

I averted my gaze from her and closed my eyes, my jaw tightening, but instantly ma vilaine appeared, looking back at me as if I were something worth destroying the world for. I fucking loved that intensity and insanity creeping behind her brown irises. Her possessiveness and will to do things to get me made my skin prickle and my stomach flutter.

Leigh was predictable, ordinary… safe. I craved chaotic, dangerous, reckless.

The decision had been made. This was a fucking mistake.

“Leigh,” I addressed her gently, ignoring her sexy smile. “I should’ve never come here. It’ll be better if I drive you home.”

“Oh, c’mon.” She rolled her eyes, lifting herself. “You didn’t let me try any of my tricks. I can give you a massage, and—”

“No,” I refused without hesitation, my stomach twisting with nausea. “Nothing will happen tonight.”

Offense flashed across her face, but she quickly masked it behind a broad smile. She knelt before me, the mattress dipping under her weight when she moved closer.

“Give me a chance, Dorian,” she whispered, stretching her arm toward my bare chest. I flinched away as if she had an infectious disease, glaring at her.

“Stop.” I slapped her hand away. “I’ll have to peel my skin off if you touch me again.”

My eyes widened, and my lips pressed into a thin line to prevent any other idiocy from coming out. Leigh stared at me in disbelief mixed with shock, sitting on her heels.

“W-what?” she stuttered, anger quickly replacing incredulity.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed sincerely, clapping my hands before my face. “I didn’t mean to—”

I didn’t get to finish. Before I could say another word, the door slammed open, and my heart stopped. Literally, because on the threshold stood the leading actress of my dreams, or nightmares, depending on the point of view.

She wore a simple white sweater and ripped blue jeans that tightly hugged her flawlessly shaped thighs. Her face was covered with a black Venetian mask, her brown eyes glowing under it like embers fed by pure fury. It was that kind of look that screamed jealousy and promised consequences.

I’d seen anger in plenty of eyes before, but this was something else entirely. It was rage laced with possession, the unmistakable glare of a woman who had just caught the man she considered hers misbehaving. She stood in the doorway like a nightmare given shape, and the gun with a silencer in her right hand only underlined the severity of the situation she caught me in.

Oh, fuck. I would devour her on the spot if she wasn’t glaring at Leigh like a maniac ready to shoot.

I knew danger when I saw it, and here it was palpable. I had to act. But before I could do or say anything, her eyes found mine, and I immediately understood I was fucked.

“Well, well, well,” ma vilaine sang in a sweet voice that had nothing to do with amusement. “What do we have here?” She pointed a gun at my chest, her eyes shooting lightening at me. “A cheating husband.”

Leigh gasped on my right side. My heart constricted in my chest, but not from fear. Ma vilaine already had the opportunity to kill me and didn’t. My reputation, on the other hand, could get hurt pretty badly by this unexpected fuckery. I instantly pictured a headline for the news:

Dorian Zhumagulov caught cheating in his brother’s whorehouse.

The investors would eat me alive. They made me promise there wouldn’t be any scandal tied to my name; otherwise, I risked everything I had assembled over the past six months. It wasn’t just my career and money. It was the facility I built for the people who couldn’t afford healthcare.

“Hi, baby,” I greeted, raising my arms in a surrendering gesture. “It’s not what it looks like.”