Page 41 of Brutal Heir

What if I’d just signed my own death warrant?

I pushed against his chest, but he didn’t budge. “Are you working with my father? Are you stalking me?”

“No, piccolo. I don’t stalk. I came to Paris to find you.”

Find me?

There it was again.

The one word that kept repeating over and over in my head almost since the moment I met him.

Run.

I struggled to free myself, clawing at his coat. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

With his hand wrapped around my throat, I barely heard his response over my panic. “That will depend on you.”

His mouth claimed mine.

My struggles only seemed to fuel him as he pressed his body more firmly against mine.

I should’ve screamed.

Instead, I kissed him back.

When I fought to keep my lips closed, he squeezed my throat until I opened them on a gasp.

His tongue pushed inside.

He wasn’t kissing me. He was consuming me.

His head slanted to deepen the kiss, his dominance overwhelming.

The press of his arousal against my stomach scorched away any remaining thoughts of resistance.

It was as if I were drowning. Submerged in silent weightlessness, yet still facing the threat of death.

I clenched fistfuls of fabric as I fought to stay above the water.

I lost the battle.

Did anyone ever go to war with Sebastian Diamanti and win?

It intoxicated me to be forced to submit to his embrace. Men my age were so hesitant to offend. So polite.

But Sebastian appealed to a dark, hidden desire inside of me.

A desire I didn’t dare express. One that yearned for a man to have the confidence, the experience, the arrogance, to force me against a wall and just take what he wanted. A man who was so overcome with the need to kiss me, he couldn’t fathom waiting another moment, not even to ask for consent.

He deepened the kiss.

My heartbeat tripped, then pounded faster, drowning everything else out.

The problem was—reality and fantasy were two very different things.

There was a reason men like that needed to stay between the pages of books. Because in real life, there were real consequences for letting a man become unleashed.

I shoved him back, fighting for breath.