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“Now the hoodie.” My voice rasps, thick and rusty.
Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she shrugs off the bulky sweatshirt and uncovers a tantalizing canvas.
Her skin, smooth as satin, glows with a radiant warmth that beckons fingertips to explore its contours. A dainty lace camisole clings to her upper body, underscoring the gentle curve of her breasts and the elegant slope of her shoulders.
Everything about her is in perfect harmony. Her eyes, a stormy sea of emerald, flicker with a potent mixture of desire and defiance. Her lips, a provocative shade of pink, purse with uncertainty and rebellion. Her body, the delicate goddamn shape of her, turns me into both predator and prey, caught in a dangerous game of pleasure and power.
She’s a riddle, a puzzle I yearn to solve, yet I know that to possess her completely would be to lose myself in the process. It would mean breaking my family’s hard-won truce.
So I tread carefully, savoring each stolen moment, knowing that the beauty she possesses is as treacherous as it is intoxicating.
“Keep going.” I motion at her leggings.
“I’m not sure…” Rubbing her hands on her thighs, she glances at the back door and scans the windowless space. “Is it safe?”
Is she safe with me? Never. But that’s not what she’s asking.
“No one will interrupt us.” I lean back against the workbench and rest my fingers in my pockets. “I’m waiting.”
Distrust narrows her eyes, a silent reminder that part of her still resists me. But I’m undeterred. I see the spark of desire pulsing within her and vow to unravel the layers of hostility, to earn her trust and tear down the walls that hold her captive.
The air sizzles with tension, an unspoken battle between us. With her, it’s always a fight, but I’ll gladly stand toe-to-toe with her for as long as it takes. The challenge sets my blood on fire.
“Is this part of Denver’s plan?” She toes off her shoes and hooks her thumbs into her waistband. “Or are we violating some secret rule?”
“He has nothing to do with this.”
“What about the deal?” She shimmies the leggings down one hip, then the other, back and forth, taking her sweet ass time. “Will you surrender?”
“Will you?” Fuck, I’m hard. Painfully so. The need to touch myself rages, but I keep my hands off my dick. I’m in control.
“Women are off-limits. That’s what you said.” Her voice, dripping with temptation, tries to lure me in. “I am off-limits.”
“Let me worry about that.”
In this dangerous dance, I know the risks. But I’m not afraid. I’ll deal with Denver.
Just as easily as I’ll deal with her.
Beneath her alluring exterior, I sense the nervousness she tries to hide. She may think she has the upper hand, but I’ll prove her wrong. Her intelligence is a weapon, but I’ll match her wit, outsmart her at every turn, and show her I’m not just a pawn in a game.
I won’t let my need for her weaken me. I’ll turn the tables, make her feel the hunger and the desperation she so recklessly invokes.
She chews on her lip, weighing her options. I wait, knowing her decision before she slowly pivots. Her body faces away, but her eyes stay with me as she slides the pants down her round, supple ass.
Sensually, unhurriedly, as if she has all the time in the world, she bends at the waist, lowers the leggings, and reveals flawless porcelain skin from hips to ankles.
Her movements are calculated, designed to disarm, to make me lose control. But it is she who is underestimating me.
Neck craned, she watches me the entire time, waiting for me to do what monsters do. Take. Hurt. Violate.
I grit my teeth against a surge of dark cravings and force myself to remain still. I can be a monster. I’ve already hurt her irreparably. But I would never force myself on her. I know firsthand the lasting damage that particular cruelty leaves on a person.
When she realizes I won’t attack her, she rewards me, rising to her full height and facing me fully in nothing more than a whisper-thin pair of lace underwear and matching camisole. All snow-white lace. All transparent as fuck.
Fire-red hair glows beneath the material covering her pussy. I bet that forbidden part of her smells like salvation and tastes sweeter than cherries. A notion that makes my blood rush too fast and my cock harden and heat like iron forged in hell.
Amid the warmth of the coal stove and the discarded clothes at her feet, she hugs her waist, shifts her feet, and finally lowers her arms. Then her eyes connect with mine.
Despite my greedy, blatant perusal of her body, she stands tall before me, vulnerable yet emboldened. A goddess in human form, unapologetically embracing her sensuality.
Her presence fills the room, suffusing it with a heady mix of desire and reverence. I grip the counter behind me, captivated by the sheer power of her beauty.
