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But damn it, I am.
It isn’t just his looks, but I can’t deny what a handsome man he is. It’s the way he’s making me feel right now, with no words being said between us, while he races me away from an impending doom I was sure to face with whoever that was who won me at the auction.
My attraction to Niccolò runs deep. It’s a feeling more so than anything—and that alone is enough to rattle my bones.
“Why must you ask questions you know the answers to, viper?”
I clench my eyes shut, willing his words to have zero effect on me.
For those words, for his voice, for the want and need and guttural desire I feel in this moment to dissipate.
But it’s too late.
Because the moment Niccolò opened that car door and pulled me away, took me in his arms, and provided me with the one thing I haven’t felt in months—safety—I was nothing more than a woman who needed a man in the worst possible way.
Maybe it’s shock.
Maybe it’s the criminal need surging in my veins for this man.
Maybe it’s because I just want to feel something other than terrified for the first time in a long time…
Maybe it doesn’t matter.
“Pull the car over.” My words come out strangled, short and sweet, and piercing.
Niccolò immediately lets off the gas, and the engine makes a noise to accompany it.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he veers into the right lane. “Something hurting?”
No, in fact. I wish it were. I wish there was some kind of pain to take my mind off of what I’m feeling right now. I wish I felt anything other than thiswantdeep inside of my chest.
“You heard me.”
Niccolò mutters something under his breath about not having time for me to play games with him, but he does as I say, and I’m grateful for the dark because it hides my shock. For once, the man is listening and not putting up a fight.
Seconds after my request, we’re parked on a side street that is a bit too reminiscent of the one we left not long ago, but I push that out of my mind and focus solely on the task at hand.
I unclip my belt and climb into the front seat until I’m straddling Niccolò and pulling my dress up to my waist.
“What the fuc—”
“Shut up and let me fuck you,” I say, and instantly feel his punishing grip around my throat.
I tilt my head back as he squeezes, and I’m sick because I love the way it feels when he leaves me struggling for enough air.
You love the pain, don’t you?
My inner voice, the one I haven’t heard in so long, floats to the surface and mocks me.
I shove that bitch down and revel in the feeling Niccolò’s giving me.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, little viper.” His voice has shifted from one of concern to one of pure, unfiltered darkness.
I look into his eyes, my gaze finding his in the dark. The streetlamp alongside us shines a sliver of light onto his gorgeous face, and I find myself needing oxygen to take in just how perfect he looks right now.
His high, chiseled cheekbones paired with a few wild strands of dark-brown hair that have fallen hastily around his face make him look rugged—like the kind of man who could have his way with me, chew me up, and spit me out, but in the best way possible.
The same wild, unforgiving look rests in his dark stare. My soul feels like it’s on fire when I look into those eyes of his. It’s a feeling I know I can never come back from, but in this moment in time, I cannot seem to care.
