I closed my eyes and shuddered. “No. That’s not true.”
“I don’t think it is either.”
I turned and leaned back against the window. He placed his hands on either side of me, pinning me there.
“Then what’s wrong? Why aren’t I freaking out like I did last time?”
“You’re getting desensitized. It doesn’t mean you’re a heartless monster, only that you’ve seen enough violence that it doesn’t rip you to pieces. You’re developing scar tissue.”
I winced and my hand came up to my stomach. I dropped it, but he’d already noticed.
“Maybe that was the wrong metaphor, but you understand. You’re not broken. You’re not a killer. You’re still you.”
I tilted my chin up toward him. “Why do you even care?”
“Because I told you, I need to make you happy.”
“No, you don’t. You want to use me and get your revenge.”
“And you don’t wish to use me?” He moved closer, lips to close to mine. I sucked in a breath, tired not to lose control, but each time his mouth grazed my skin I felt that sudden irrational pulse of need run through every inch of my body, like a tidal wave sweeping me out to sea.
“I never asked for any of this.”
“No, you stumbled into it, but here you are. I would’ve left you alone at my house if you refused to help, but here you are. This was your decision.”
“Some choice.”
“Pretend you hate it all you want, but you like the strength I have. Why else ask for protection? For safety? Something that only I can give you.” He reached up and cupped my chin, then moved down to my throat.
My breath grew hot and fast.
“I just need to make sure Winter’s okay.” I whispered the words, and they rang false.
He was right. I liked the power. It was seductive and terrible. He could do things to people, erase lives like they never existed, murder and kill and take at will, bend entire crime families to his will, and that was erotic and tempting and horrible all mixed up into one.
His lips found mine, hungry and luscious. I kissed him back as his hand on my throat tightened—not enough to cut off my breathing, but enough to send my pulse racing. I grabbed onto his arm, tried to move it, but he wouldn’t.
I could’ve screamed. Begged him to stop. Told him to let me go.
I didn’t. I kept kissing him. I let his tongue into my mouth and I moaned as my slit dripped with need and want and my nipples pressed against my thin silk top. He grabbed my hair and pulled back, releasing my throat. He kissed my neck and untied my blouse’s bow, dropping the two long strands and unbuttoning the front until he exposed my chest.
His lips found my cleavage, pulling my hair tighter, until his other hand slid down to the top of my slacks.
I put my hands on his chest and tried to push, but that only made me gasp with pain as he gripped my hair harder, yanked it from the scalp.
He shoved me against the window. It made a low, resonant boom and I gasped as he roughly broke open my top button. He shoved his hand down my panties, not pretending to be kind anymore, and his fingers swirled around in my wetness.
“There you are,” he whispered, biting my earlobe hard. I whimpered then moaned as his fingers rolled along my clit and pleasure warred against the pain in confusing and exquisite contrast. “My soaking wet little Cassie. You look at me like you can’t decide if you’d rather push me off a roof or ride my cock into oblivion.”
“Maybe it’s both.”
“I think it’s definitely both, and I like that about you.” He kissed me and I bit his lip hard again. I didn’t break skin this time—not for lack of trying.
His fingers plunged inside and I gasped, tilting back my head.
He pulled his hand back out and ripped my blouse completely off. That poor, pretty Gucci top. The silk tore like paper and dropped to the ground, exposing my bra-covered breasts. He unhooked it, and though I tried to keep it on, he ripped it from my hands then turned me around, pushing me against the cold glass. It felt good on my bare nipples, and I gasped as his hand shoved down between my legs again from behind, his lips kissing my neck as his fingers teased my clit and my hands pushed hard into the window.
“It’s okay that you’re afraid,” he whispered as he fucked my pussy with his fingers and teased my clit with his thumb. “I want you a little afraid, my pretty doll, my wife. But I’ll always take care of you, always give you the pleasure you need and crave, even if you won’t admit to yourself that you thrive on the pain. You can struggle and lie to yourself, I see through you, my Cassie. I see what you desire.”