Page 37 of Mine
Stupid, stupid fool that I am. I’m playing with fire. Hell, it’s not even regular fire, it’s the flames of hell itself. A man like him would eat me alive. And if I want to hang on to any modicum of self-respect, I cannot let anything physical develop between us. This is about survival, not sex. But that doesn’t stop me applying a tinted moisturiser, a few strokes of mascara and a lick of lip gloss before I head downstairs to search the fridge.
The evening sun slides in through the huge glass windows and double doors as I pull out two salmon fillets and set to work prepping potatoes and vegetables. I rinse the fish under cold water, pat it dry, set it skin-side down, drizzling olive oil over the top, then set about making the sauce. I watched the chef at the restaurant I used to work in make it so many times I could probably do it blindfolded.
I’m so engrossed in what I’m doing, I don’t even hear him come in.
‘Quite the domestic housewife,’ he hums approvingly, sneaking up behind me. ‘I’m impressed.’
More like the desperate housewife—desperate for his approval. It’s that Stockholm Syndrome again. It has to be. Although he isn’t keeping me here as his prisoner. I’m here of my own free will.
I drink him in. My memory didn’t do him justice. The man is utterly godlike. Except he’s not a god, he’s more like the damned devil, but still, I can’t take my eyes from him and from the way his lips are stretching open, he fucking knows it.
‘It’s nothing.’ I shrug, even as his approval sets my core clenching. I switch off the cooker and turn to give him my full attention.
His dark eyes rove over my body. ‘Did you put that dress on for me?’ He rakes his hand through his hair.
‘It seemed a shame to leave it hanging in the wardrobe,’ I lie.
‘I should probably change too.’ He glances down at his white shirt and suit pants, then undoes his top button, just like the other night. But then, there was fifteen feet between us. Now there’s less than four, and he’s still prowling closer. My mouth waters as I get a glimpse of that dark and devastating tattoo on his chest. He watches me with his usual intensity. Our eyes meet and the air shifts.
‘Did it hurt?’ I ask. I suppose it’s safer than ‘can I lick it?’
He rolls his lips like he’s biting back a smile. ‘I don’t feel pain. Not physically, anyway. Not like normal people do.’
I still. ‘What? How is that even possible?’
‘Discipline. Control. Practice. It’s all in the mind.’ He undoes another button.
Is he trying to kill me? Make me blush? Or make me crack and beg him to, what did he call it, ‘address the frankly feral attraction pulsing between us’?
His eyes drop to my mouth. The entire kitchen vibrateswith raw, primal, sexual energy. ‘I promised not to force myself on you, sweetheart, but if you keep looking at me like that, I will take it as an invitation to kiss you.’
‘You can’t.’ I breathe, wetting my lips just in case he makes good on his threat.
‘But you want me to, don’t you, Aoife?’ His deep voice slides over my spine and crawls beneath my skin.
He’s right, of course. Part of me wants to kiss him. A very large part. But the other part still holds him, and his Syndicate, responsible for so much of my pain, that I want to slap him.
He steals closer. His eyes drift to my breasts. ‘Your tits are begging for my mouth, Aoife. And I bet your pussy is soaked for me too.’
‘You can’t say things like that,’ I stammer.
But he’s right. My lingerie is ruined.
‘I can, and I will.’
‘You don’t fight fair,’ I whisper, my gaze dropping to his full lips.
‘I never claimed to.’ My nipples are rock hard, preening for his touch. ‘Ask me to touch you. Beg me, and I’ll make you come so hard you’ll see stars.’ He continues to gravitate closer until there’s barely an inch between our bodies.
I wish he wouldn’t make me ask.
I wish he’d just take, then I could hate him afterward, instead of hating myself.
He inches closer, and I’m enveloped by his masculine scent. ‘You’re still giving me that look, Aoife.’
His face dips until it’s millimetres from mine. I can’t breathe. I know I should push him away, but I’m not physically able. I need his touch like a heart needs a beat. This attraction is more powerful than anything I’ve ever experienced. I can’t fight it.
And in this moment, I don’t want to.
