Violent Delights (White Monarch 1)

“God, I want you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

In that moment, I felt the same. I’d preserved my virginity for him—that part was easy. But keeping it from him? I struggled to be good. I wanted to do right by my faith, act with grace as my mother had, and be a woman she would’ve been proud of. But sometimes I wondered if it even mattered since I would marry Diego no matter what.

His hand dropped lower than it ever had, and the wrongness of being groped outside where anyone could happen upon us made something pull deep in my tummy. From behind, Diego cupped me between the legs and held me in place as he ground against me, rubbing a sensitive spot that made me moan up at the sky. “Oh, god. That . . .”

“Hmm?” he asked, running his tongue along the shell of my ear.

“That feels so good,” I breathed.

“For me too. I’m getting hard, Tals.”

Desire washed over me. This was still new territory for us. It wasn’t easy to talk dirty to my best friend over the phone when we’d only ever stolen a few kisses here, a few intimate touches there.

“Tell me something too,” he said in my ear. “Are you wet?”

I curled my fingers in his hair, taking two handfuls of honeyed downy strands. I hadn’t known a question like that would excite me so much. “I think I am now,” I said.

He smiled against my cheek. “You’re pulling my hair.”

“Oh—sorry.” I released my fists.

“I don’t mind it. How about you?” Keeping one hand under my ass, he tugged on my curls with the other, causing a butterfly clip to fall out. “Or is it too much?”

He’d been gentle, but I bit my lip as a passion we rarely got to explore warmed the space between us. “It’s not too much.”

His eyes darkened. “Tell me you love me, Talia.”

“You know I do.”

“But say it, princesa.” He growled a little, in a way I’d never heard from him. “When I ask, that means I want to hear it.”

I was taken aback by the tremor of frustration in his voice, especially because I couldn’t think of a time I’d ever denied him anything. That was one thing he and I had never experienced—a chase. We played the games that had been forced upon us by keeping our romance a secret, but maybe the hungry look in his eyes now meant Diego also wanted to hunt a little.

What would happen if I didn’t give him what he wanted every time he asked for it?

“No,” I said softly.

“No?” He pulled me against him once more, bringing me to the tips of my toes. “Don’t keep your love from me, Talia. Ever.”

He sounded angry, but his excitement was growing more and more obvious against my stomach. And something about refusing him was equally as exhilarating for me.

I shook my head.

“You don’t love me?” He nipped my earlobe. “All I want is to take care of you. Protect you. Love you. And you’ll deny me?” He took my face with one large hand, his grip rough but his dancing eyes boring into mine, challenging me in a way that sent a thrill down my spine. His hand under my buttocks crept lower and locked between my legs. He had me trapped, my face secure, while his fingers were centimeters from my most intimate spot. “Tell me how much you love me,” he demanded. “I won’t ask again.”

With footsteps at Diego’s back, I jumped back as my heart launched into my throat. We’d let down our guards, which might’ve made our fondling more thrilling, but which was never smart around here. I hid behind Diego, adjusting my neckline, even though we hadn’t been doing anything.

Diego turned just his head to the side. “Move along,” he called over his shoulder. “Pervert.”

No response. I looked around him and swallowed at the skull in the shadows. One that both arrested my gaze and inspired my instinct to flee. Cristiano had found us vulnerable, away from the team that protected us. I wasn’t even sure if Diego had his gun. Cristiano could shoot me. Take me. Hurt me.

But would he? Who was he now? How was he different from the protector I’d grown up with? I couldn’t even be sure that version of him was the same man who’d murdered my mother.

If he had at all.

Was I really questioning what I’d seen?

God. Cristiano hadn’t even spoken yet, and he was playing mind games with me. His composure and coded words from earlier put a match to the embers of curiosity I continually tried to extinguish.

Diego turned, standing protectively in front of me.

The figure stepped into the moonlight. “You were going to take her out here for everyone to see,” Cristiano said with an inviting gesture. “Don’t let us interrupt.”