Her Shadows, His Secrets - Page 29

We are a match made in hell, but the collision would be like an exquisite bit of burning heaven. One where the ashes fall in perfect tandem. She and I are wrong. Everything should end in disaster. But I don’t fear the calamity. Because when all is said and done, I will have washed my hands clean after feeding the beast.

Whatever happens with her… is not something I will ever have to worry about. That’s part of this whole arrangement. The best part, in fact—well, besides the animalistic fucking.

“Inside, you can tell me how much you hate me and wish I would drop dead.” I wink, earning me a huff and eye roll. Climbing out, I round the truck and help her down. Her scent hits me, and it makes me feral, highly aware of my cock’s stiffness and my desire to claim her. Shit. It’s divine, her scent. It’s an aphrodisiac all on its own. I can’t wait to fuck her with a violence that she will crave, with her wearing only that scent—and mine.

“Let’s make a deal. You can tell me whatever it is you want in there, as long as I get to throw a drink in your face after?” she offers sassily.

The way she’s teasing and testing me is only making me more fucking eager. Damn this maddening woman.

Gripping her neck and pushing her softly against the side of the truck, I shut the door and place my free hand beside her head on the window.

“You are playing with fire. You and I are going to do this, and I promise it won’t be a drink you will be throwing in my face. It’ll be your wet pussy that wants to be eaten, licked, and fucked. Now, inside, greens.”

Her jaw is lax, her pulse quickening under my hand before I release it, and her skin is red and heated.

Control. I sense it, feel it, revel in it. It takes her a minute to set into motion. I watch her hips move. Even on shaky legs, she moves like a dream; a body so curvy can only move like that. Sways were meant for women like Hanna, and she does it as if she invented it. I can’t wait to explore every inch of that body. Examine it under harsh hands, care for it when I bruise it and use it. This is going to be one of the best sexual relationships I’ve ever had, and I’m angrier with myself, because I know the implications—the complications.

Stepping into the bar, I notice it’s not as busy as it usually is, which is perfect. The night life here is dull and, if I’m being honest, garbage of the lowest extent. One of the many reasons I prefer New York. If we were back there, I would take her somewhere nice. Put on a show, especially since I’m about to ask her what I plan to.

We haven’t said anything since our exchange back at the truck and still stay silent as we are taken to a free table toward the back of the bar. It’s a high-top, with a lame excuse for a candle in a green glass. Classy.

“Here you two go. Enjoy, y’all. Your server will be right over.”

I nod to the woman who seats us. Hanna gives a soft thanks before opening her menu, looking it over as if she’s going to find a portal out of here in the damn thing.

“Hanna?” I attempt to get her attention, but it fails when all she does is just say “hmm,” the menu still covering most her face. “Hanna. I want you to look at me.”

Closing her eyes tight, she seems to mentally prepare herself to do what I’m asking, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy her torment.

“What?” She finally gives me those green eyes from beneath her thick lashes.

“In order to have this talk, you need to stop looking like a scared dog who just got slapped with a newspaper.”

She gawks. “But aren’t I? You have now grabbed my throat twice, said vulgar things to me, and now you want us to break bread? How am I supposed to act? A chipper, thankful, good, and obedient doe?”

My cock jumps. She may not see the double meaning behind her choice of words, but that was exactly what I like to hear.

“Precisely,” I growl.

“Ugh, you insane man. What is wrong with you? You know that women are not objects or pawns you can play with and then toss aside when they’re broken because of your mishandling, right?” She seethes.

That was personal. This is now the third time she has indicated in some way or another that there has been something done to her. Someone wronged her.

“What is that?” I question, moving the menu aside and pushing hers down as well. There is pain engrained in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Tags: C.C. Monroe, K.D. Robichaux Dark
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