Page 24 of Possessive Sinner
The next morning…
I stare into the mirror. "What the hell was that, Gabe?"
My voice is rough, low in my throat.She's married. The words land like a verdict.You crossed a line last night.That cannot happen again.
Sending her gifts?
Fine. Anonymous. Harmless enough to pass as luck.
Approaching her?
No.
Dancing with her?
Absolutely not. Never again.
I brace my hands on the marble counter and study the man in the mirror. I'm not a saint. I take what I want. Always have. Territory. Money. Power. If something stands in my way,I remove it. I don't deny myself. That's not how men like me survive.
But this… is different. Because that woman belongs to another man. And I don't steal another man's wife. Not even if every instinct in my body screams to take her. To claim her. To make her mine.
My jaw clenches. My body hasn't forgotten. My cock is hard and aching, the kind of painful tension that comes from restraint. But that's not what bothers me. It's the pressure in my chest. The way something tightens there every time I think about her.
Disgust crawls up my spine.What the hell is wrong with you?
Just standing near her, it nearly unraveled me. "Fuck."
I close my eyes, and she's there again. Peonies and warm skin. That soft, clean scent that clung to my jacket like a drug. Her fiery hair spilling over her shoulders, catching the light with every turn. I wanted to bury my face in it. Wanted to fist it in my hand and tilt her head back so I could taste her throat.
That dance…
Fuck. That dance.
The moment I pulled her into my arms, everything else disappeared. She was soft and trembling, following my lead like she was made for it. Every step pressed her closer, her breasts against my chest, her hips brushing mine, her breath warm on my neck. I felt her heartbeat racing. Felt her body melt into mine like liquid heat. She was perfect.
When I dipped her, I nearly lost it.
I had her suspended, back arched, hair nearly brushing the floor, my thigh wedged between hers. Her dress had ridden up just enough that I could feel the heat of her pussy against my leg. One second longer, and I would've done it, I would've lowered her to the floor right there in front of every guest, shoved thatsilk up to her waist, and buried my cock so deep inside her she'd scream my name loud enough for the whole ballroom to hear.
It was too close. Way too fucking close.
I've wanted women before. I've taken them. But nothing has ever felt like this. This isn't just lust. This is something darker. Hungrier. Like she woke up a part of me I didn't know existed.
I open my eyes and glare at my reflection.
"She's married," I growl at myself. "Get a fucking grip."
But even as I say it, my cock twitches again, aching, leaking, demanding the one woman I can't have.
Audra.
My fist slams into the mirror. Glass explodes outward with a violent crack. Pain shoots through my knuckles as the mirror fractures, shards scattering into the sink. Blood runs down my hand, dripping onto the marble.
I barely feel it.
Because the truth sitting in my chest hurts a hell of a lot worse. I stare at my broken reflection. I am not that man. Massimo gives the orders. I'm the reason they're obeyed. I ruin men who cross me. But I don't take another man's wife. That's a line. Men like me live or die by the lines we draw.
. For now, Audra Hale belongs to Pete.
