Page 73 of Condemned By Pain
“Don’t.” The word hisses out, strained.
I shift closer. “Why not?”
“You’ll hate it.” He breathes the words, as if speaking them costs him everything.
I know what that line means. But in my delusional mind, I believe that somehow—he’ll give up on his revenge.
“And you?”
His eyes darken further. The hard line of his jaw sharpens. He catches my hand, pulls it up, and presses it back to his chest, covering it with his own.
“Keep it here.”
I shift closer, until my front brushes his arm.
“That’s not an answer.”
“You won’t get one,” he mutters.
The sound of our breathing—ragged, rapid—fills the small space between us. Temptation thrums in the air, in our blood. I used to think he was unaffected, but not now. Not when I can feel his heart hammering, wild as my own.
“I want to kiss you,” I whisper.
His heartbeat turns violent beneath my hand, pounding like it might burst from his chest.
“Just one kiss,” I beseech, not daring to move.
I can’t face another rejection. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since the last one.
He turns onto his side. My hand, still pressed to his chest, forms a barrier between us. He cups my chin, the cool leather sending a shiver through me. I part my lips, breathing through my mouth to chase away the burn in my lungs.
His thumb brushes across my lower lip.
“I’ll kiss you, Princess. But it will make you mine.” His voice is rough.
I move closer to his mouth.
“Do it.” The words rush out on my breath.
“Promise me you won’t hate me when I kill your father,” he says in a low, pleading voice.
I stare into his eyes.
“You won’t give it up.” My throat closes around the words.
The heat in his eyes vanishes—replaced by a cold that seeps into my chest, freezing everything. The rapid pounding stops. His. Mine. All of it.
“I can’t.” His voice is cold, empty.
I shift away from him onto my back. The desire has drained from my body, leaving an ache behind, a void inside my ribs.
I’ve fallen for the only man I shouldn’t. My body craves the man who wants to kill my uncle. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
I turn my head and find him watching me with eyes emptied of everything. Now my heart aches for him. I don’t know what it is, but I can see he’s fighting something—something inside him.
I turn back toward him and reach out.
I press my hand to his cheek. The stubble scratches my palm, but the skin underneath is soft, just like his lips.
