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Was he rejecting me?
I tried to pull away, and his hands shot out to catch me. “It doesn’t change anything between us.”
“It changes everything.” I turned away from his sorrowful eyes. Everything about this was so fucked up, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.
“What is your end goal here, Lucian?” I asked. “Why do you want to punish me?”
“My goal isn’t and has never been to punish you,” he answered.
“That’s a lie. From the beginning, you told me I meant nothing to you, and you were more than happy to destroy my life. But why? What did I do to set myself in your sights?”
He relaxed his grip on me, and when he was certain I wasn’t going to flee, he let go altogether.
“I saw you.” His voice was low, the way I imagined it was when he confessed his sins.
“What?”
“You want to know what you did,” he explained. “But it wasn’t anything. I saw you, and that was your only mistake. I saw your pretty, tragic face, and I couldn’t let you go.”
It sounded like it pained him to admit it, but it still didn’t make sense to me.
“Where?”
“Saint Vincent’s.”
My mind reeled back to the many instances I’d found myself inside that church, confessing my so-called sins. But it was always empty, save for me and the priest. What Lucian was trying to sell me didn’t add up.
“You couldn’t have seen me there,” I argued. “I would have known.”
He bowed his head, and for the first time since I’d known him, he looked ashamed. “See isn’t really the correct word. If we’re being honest, then heard is more appropriate.”
My heart slammed against my ribcage, and I shook my head because it couldn’t be true. There was no way. But when I looked into his eyes, I knew that it was.
It was pure adrenaline that provoked me to run.
“Gypsy.” His voice sounded from behind me, but I kept going.
My reaction hadn’t been a logical one. I was still naked, and I had nothing on me that would be of any use if I did make it out of the house. But I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t face the fact that he’d been listening in on my confessions, my darkest and most intimate secrets.
I was mortified. Angry. And I knew that I would never want to look him in the eyes again.
“Gypsy.”
His voice was closer this time. I was almost to the front door, and I couldn’t look back. But when I wrapped my fingers around the handle, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that it was locked.
I shook it anyway, screaming out my frustration as strong arms wrapped around me from behind. I fought him. I stepped on his foot and kicked him in the shin and tried to thrust my head back against his chest before he eventually tackled me to the floor and pinned me down with his body.
“Stop,” he commanded.
I didn’t stop. I kept fighting because it was all I had left. But Lucian was stronger, as most of the men in my life had been, and he won. He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand and gripped my face with the other.
“Take a deep breath,” he said calmly.
“You’re sick,” I choked out. “There’s something wrong with you.”
His eyes softened, and his forehead fell against mine. “I know, pet.”
His dick was hard against my stomach, and his constant torment grew restless. He told me it wasn’t going to happen again, but Lucian had proved himself to be a liar. And he lied again when his lips found mine. It wasn’t an apology when he kissed me, it was possession.
I hated him at that moment, but I needed him too. Such conflicting feelings were not in my realm of normality. It wasn’t right that fire spread through my body when he touched me. It definitely wasn’t sane when I arched up into him and cried at the loss of him when his lips pulled away.
For three long seconds, he stared at me, trying to find his morals. His virtue. Whatever the fuck it was he thought could stop this. But like my protests, they weren’t anywhere in this room. My parted thighs were a temptation even the saint in him couldn’t refuse.
“Fuck,” he growled. “I can’t keep doing this.”
His lips smashed against mine as he reached down and grabbed his cock and squeezed it inside me. His head fell back, and his mouth fell open, and he looked like he’d just found his version of Eden inside me. It was beautiful and ugly at the same time, and I’d never felt so torn about wanting something as much as I wanted him. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, and his fingers brushed against my throat before wrapping around the delicate flesh in warning.
