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Lips pressed together, she nods. “Well … you’re not the first, and I doubt you’ll be the last.” She finally backs herself toward the door. “For the record? Aside from the mishap with your mother, tonight was the best night of my life,” she says, and she spins around toward the elevator.

Every muscle in my body is wound tight, listening to the evidence of her retreat. The ding of the elevator. The sniffles. The sliding of the doors. My opportunity to have her slipping out of my grasp.

The moment she’s gone, I pour myself another drink, hand trembling with fury.

This is my curse. The legacy my father left behind, of mindless sex and misery.

I raise the glass for a sip, teeth grinding inside my skull, but slam it against the desktop so the liquid splashes out onto the wood.

Screwing my eyes shut, I succumb to the visual inside my head. The look of ecstasy on Isa’s face, her legs wrapped around my body, her moans echoing off the walls.

I need her out of my system, out of my head. Every waking thought is wrapped around this girl, strangling my opposition, begging me for one taste. One touch.

I want the forbidden. I want the one thing that irritates me more than anything. The one thing I shouldn’t want.

Isa.

Chapter 40

Isadora

A soft tickle down my leg rips me out of dreams, and I slide the blade from beneath my pillow, kicking my feet back. In the blackness of my room, the knife hits something, and I keep it propped there while scrambling for the lamp beside me. The chain brushes my fingertips, and I give a hard yank, the darkness blinking to light.

Lucian’s hulking body looms over me, like a black squall ready to take me under, as he holds himself propped on outstretched arms.

My blade at his throat.

The seeds Nell planted inside my head earlier in the night failed to bloom once I saw the relics of his son, and I left his office feeling like every other asshole from Tempest Cove who believes the rumors about him. I fell asleep hating myself for failing to do the one thing that makes me different from the others in this town: think objectively. Still, murderer, or not, the man carries an edge of danger about him. An aura that triggers my instincts, warning me to be careful. So I keep the blade where it’s at, while my brain unwinds from the confusion.

My attention falls to his bare chest and torso, momentarily distracted by the tight cords and deep ridges of hard-earned muscle. The scent coming off him is an intoxicating mix of spice and a more primitive, masculine aroma that waters my mouth. Something burns in those infernal eyes. Dark and wicked. For a moment, I wonder if I’m dreaming, until he shifts, and I feel my pants slide down my thighs.

“Wait.” I squirm beneath him, never lowering my weapon, and grab hold of his hand, which makes him pause.

“You’ve got the knife, Isa. Use it.” He lifts his chin, exposing more of his throat to the blade’s unforgiving edge, but even so, he goes back to tugging my pants down my thighs.

Once they’re off my legs, he tosses them to the floor, and I lie vulnerable beneath him. Metal clinks while he works the buckle of his belt one-handedly, his eyes never wavering from mine as he loosens his pants and springs his cock free. Thick pulsing veins feed the long and stiff erection captured in his fist, the sight of which tickles my stomach.

“What are you doing?” Still half asleep, I double-blink, trying to determine if this is the real Lucian, or the one I’ve dreamed of for the last month.

“I’m fucking you. With, or without, the blade at my throat.” His voice, pitched low and deep, dances across my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. My panties slide down next, his eyes shimmering with reverence as he pauses a moment and pries my knees apart. “Or you’ll be fucking me, it seems.” The awe in his voice mimics the expression on his face as he licks his lips.

Without ceremony or apology, he pushes two fingers up inside of me, and I gasp at the intrusion. His fingers glisten on the withdrawal, and closing his eyes, he shoves them into his mouth. He shudders, shaking his head, and his hand balls into a tight fist. “Tell me to stop, Isa. For fucks sake, tell me to stop, and I will. I swear it.”

Swallowing a gulp, I set the knife onto the nightstand and shake my head, my whole body trembling. “No.”

For a moment, we stare back at each other in a battle of wills, until he finally groans, slips my panties off, and tosses them away. “I’m selling my fucking soul for this, so I hope it’s as good as I imagined.” Taking hold of his cock, he strokes himself while he seems to admire my body, biting his lip as the iniquity dances in his eyes. Darkly erotic, he reminds me of the bad twin in my dreams. The one who fucks me without apology. The one I secretly desire most, for reasons I can’t begin to explain. “I’m no lover, and I’m not equipped to offer the emotional security a girl your age requires. To be clear, I’m here to fuck you. Hard. That’s all.”

His words send a shiver of anticipation down my spine, and my thighs twitch. “I’m not looking for a pep talk from you.”

“Then, it’s settled. I gave you a choice.” The rough and ragged texture of his voice oozes desperation and tenuous restraint. Trembling muscles, and the unyielding spark in his eyes, make me wonder if I really have a choice, at all. If a powerful man like Lucian can be pushed to the brink of taking without asking.

It doesn’t matter. I’ve dreamed of this. Of him. Coming to me in my sleep. I want the savage beast that I imagine lies beneath the thin mask of control he wears. The devil who whispers in my ear while I dream, spinning depraved promises. “I want you,” I whisper, lying back against the pillow.

Lowering himself, he slants his mouth over mine, and I swallow his moan. He fists my shirt, yanking up the hem of it, exposing my bare breasts beneath, and the growl of appreciation vibrates over my skin when he dips his face to suckle me.

I cup the back of his head, squirming against the merciless tug at my nipple. A zap of pain comes with the scrape of his teeth, and I cry out, closing my fist around a handful of hair. “More, please.” Drunk with lust, I mindlessly reach down between my thighs and take hold of his straining shaft.

Drawing his hips forward, he allows me to stroke him, while he holds himself propped on outstretched arms. He slowly rocks into my palm, his cock harder than before. So hard, I can’t imagine him fitting it into me.