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“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he states, his voice dry and gritty.
In truth and actuality, I don’t. But in a bone-deep, gut-wrenching, and body-aching kind of way, I do. I know exactly what my entire being is asking for, and it goes against every single one of the morals my father and brother instilled in me. It goes against every promise I ever made myself. Still, I crave it more than anything I’ve ever wanted.
“Stop, Eve,” he growls when I turn to face him and take a step forward, mirroring his.
Every inch of me is alive. My skin has a life of its own as it tightens around my bones. The pores on it blister and burn. God, my boobs feel so heavy, so sensitive, that the friction of my bra over my hard nipples hurts. Every move that causes the material to skim over my skin lances a sharp bolt of electricity into my belly.
“Eve…stop.”
I pause in front of him. “Why?”
Rough fingertips ghost over my hands at my sides as he draws in a deep breath, as though he’s bolting his resolve and strengthening his willpower.
“Fuck.” He spits out the curse between gritted teeth, taking another step forward so that my body is skimming his.
My breasts rub on his torso with my shallow breaths. It feels good. Too good. Like if I do it enough, I’ll come from the friction alone.
“You’re tempting the devil, Darling.” The rasp of his voice causes me to shudder as a current of excitement rolls from the top of my head to the soles of my feet.
“Is he going to bite?”
Bleak, angry pools widen, sucking me right in, deeper and deeper with every shallow breath. “Trust me, Eve—”
“I do.” More than I know I should. More than he believes I should, too, from the wry twist of his lips. “I do, Your Grace.”
A low chuckle rumbles from deep in his chest. “You don’t want me to sink my teeth into you. They come with claws…” Leaning down, he whispers into my ear as his nails scratch over the back of my hands. “And violence, and…”
An arm wraps around my waist with unrelenting and unforgiving force so that my body bows into his, and the heat of his erection seeps through my underwear. I’m hot. I’m wet. I’m wanting. All for him. Only him.
“And?” I pant.
“I’ll destroy you,” he sighs heavily, mournfully, while his eyes narrow on the marks he left on me. “I’ll fucking destroy every inch of you. Body—” He hitches me off the ground, carrying me to the bath. “—mind,” Henry states, lifting me over the edge to deposit me on my feet in the warm water, “and soul.”
Taking a step back, he watches intently as the water soaks through my white underwear. Moulding his palm to my jaw while his stare traces my exposed curves, he tells me, “I’ll destroy all there is of you before you have a hope in hell of stopping me.”
“Henry…” I part call and part cry out his name on a murmur when he pulls back and retreats out of the bathroom.
It seems as though he’s memorising the sight of me when he grips the doorknob and pauses in the doorway again. As he walks backwards, he closes the door, telling me, “Take your time.”
The instant he’s out of sight, I’m bereft. My insides tug at themselves to go to him. I can’t, though. Some warnings are meant to be heeded, and this warning—his warning—is one I need to.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HENRY
The sound of the running water is maddening. My mind loops the conversation we just had along with the image of her almost naked, wet body. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.
Why do I keep her coming here? Eve with her sass and defiance, she’s proving to be impossible to resist. Last night was proof of it, and yet, here I am—incapable of staying away or keeping her away. Because it’s true. A part of me has found a part of her that is liberating. Eve’s honesty is refreshing.
Maybe Arthur was right. Perhaps I should fuck her out of my system. Get the itch scratched and move on. I should, but I won’t. Because having her here—having her near—offers me a reprieve from duty and the person I need to be now. She’s the breath of fresh air I never imagined I could get ever again.
There’s a knock on the door at the same time as my phone vibrates in my pocket. While I answer the call, I open the door to let the maid in with the service cart.
“Set up over there,” I tell her, pointing towards the fireplace, where the large couch and coffee table are situated. While I watch her do her job, I listen to Simon relaying the outcome of his trip to the East End.
“I dropped Lizzie off down the road from the White Hart,” he says.
Just the name of the pub stirs the animal in me. I can smell the blood, feel it warm my hands and seep into my clothes. I feel it now as I felt it yesterday. A thrill sparks inside me, needing more. Blood. Violence. Death. Revenge. Justice isn’t enough anymore.
