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This was me I lost myself in.
Okay, maybe it was a little Bastian, too.
One hand gripped my waist, holding me still as he pressed harder into a knot below my shoulder. My front teeth dug into my lower lip, refusing to show him how good this felt.
His hand splayed out across my waist, the sheer size of it consuming my skin as his other hand worked on my knots.
My eyes pressed shut, and I caved. I balled my hands up.
“Harder.”
The plea slipped out like powdered sugar passing through a sieve, my broken clumps spreading into tiny little pieces before they fell to the floor beside my resolve.
I did not just beg that.
Except I did, and I couldn’t take it back, so I tried to keep quiet as he continued.
He stopped entirely before he started up again, harder this time, giving me what I refused to admit I wanted.
His breath fanned the exposed skin of my neck, and I dug my nails into my thighs until little crescent grooves formed on the flesh.
“Bastian, this isn't a good idea.”
My body defied my words, meeting his fingertips, begging for more. I dropped my neck to the side, and he slid his palm along my shoulder and up the nape, caressing it.
If I closed my eyes and let myself forget about everything—forget about where we were, who we were, and the hate we shared for one another—I could have convinced myself that we were lovers, fogging up the tiny room with our lust.
And fuck, it felt so good.
I’d never had vices before, but I imagined fighting them felt like this, and giving in...
It’ll feel better, that lurching in my stomach whispered.
She’s right, my heart agreed.
Truth was, I needed this.
My back ached. My feet hurt.
No amount of physical activity at the bureau prepared me for hauling hundreds of pounds of ice and vodka up and down the stairs all day long.
That's definitely why you haven't moved, I rationalized before I hesitated, reached up, and lowered the straps of my dress.
The fabric dropped, and I caught it before it fell past my waist. I gathered the top of the dress together and held it bunched against my stomach, my bare breasts pushed against the wall.
The coarse texture drew my nipples into hard peaks that demanded attention, but I ignored them like I ignored rational thoughts.
I faltered for an explanation before fumbling out, “It feels better skin-to-skin.”
Really, no explanation existed to justify this.
Body aches could be eased by a hot bath, not a private topless massage from someone affiliated with one of the city’s most dangerous crime families.
And the prick who put me in this situation in the first place.
Bastian muttered something under his breath, a cross between a groan and a swear, but his hands returned to my bare back as he leaned down to whisper into my ear.
“Tell me to stop.”
