Page 110 of Vicious Temptation

Enough that apparently being thoroughly wrecked three times wasn’t enough to keep my body from considering a fourth.

And why the fuck not?

I finally turn over to face him. His curls are disheveled, falling over his forehead, and my fingers itch to touch them. He’s so damn handsome for no reason.

“This isn’t what you think.”

Sliding an arm around my waist, he pulls me closer. “What is it you think I think?”

“This thing between us...it’s just fucking. That’s it.”

“We have a thing? And it’s fucking? As in, more fucking is in our future? Sounds great to me.”

I scoff. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Can’t help that,” he says, throwing one of his enormous legs over mine until our bodies are flush together.

A strange feeling comes over me, one I haven’t felt in...maybe ever.

I’m not the type to ask for help or look to others for safety. Slay your own dragons. Stab your own creepy men. That’s always been my energy. But with Thiago wrapped around me like this, my head finally quiets.

I look up at him. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend, Braga.”

“Good. Me neither,” he says with a grin.

I sigh, stifling a laugh. “I mean it. No strings, no expectations.”

“So friends with benefits.”

It’s not a question.

“I thought I told you, we’re not friends.”

He’s hard again, his dick pressing against my stomach. “This seems pretty friendly to me.”

“You know what I mean,” I say, trying to untangle myself from him, but he keeps me firmly in place.

“You know what, fera? You’re right. We’re not friends yet, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to be.”

Friends with a cop. Is this what my life has come to?

Considering I’m naked on my couch with his dick against my stomach after letting him fuck me into another dimension, I think that question has already been answered.

Yes.

Absolutely yes.

Before I can say another word, he gently takes my hand and brings it into view. His thumb brushes the faint pink marks around my wrists from the cuffs, but those aren’t what hold his attention. It’s the bruises and split skin on my knuckles.

“Can you tell me what happened out there?”

I swallow hard, tempering my rage when I think about Rafe and about being arrested. I debate how much to tell him, or whether to say anything at all.

Am I really about to narc on myself?

He must notice the internal battle because he reaches up and tilts my chin. And I’m disgusted by how intensely he makes my stomach flutter.

“It’s okay if you don’t⁠—”