Page 64 of Brutal

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“Tonight you check it twice.” He steps toward the door and then leaves.

I stand there, breathing uneven, my lips still tingling, my body still keyed up.

Something was opened that night.

Or something was sealed.

And Samson Vexley is standing right in the middle of it.

And now…so am I.

15

SAMSON

I leave her apartment because staying would be the worst thing I could do.

The problem?

I want to stay. I want to stay and grab her, rip her clothes off, and fuck her until morning. Her taste is still in my mouth when I step into the corridor. Her fragrance clings to my shirt. I can still feel the wall at her back, the line of her body, the way she tried to resist even while heat flashed through her eyes.

Most women shrink from me.

Delaney Cross steps closer.

She doesn’t know when to stop. That should make her foolish. Instead, it makes her dangerous.

And irresistible.

I stalk down the stairs instead of taking the elevator. My body is too keyed up for stillness. Too full of something that feels like fury but isn’t. Fury is useful.

This is not.

By the time I hit the street, my jaw aches from how hard I’ve been clenching it. I head for my car, unlock it, slide behind the wheel, and shut the door with more force than necessary.

Then I sit there.

I don’t start the engine.

I just sit with both hands braced on the steering wheel and my pulse still hammering like I’ve come out of a fight I didn’t win.

That’s the truth of it.

I didn’t win up there.

I warned her. I told her to stop. I told her she had no idea what she’d stepped into.

And then she looked at me with those bright and furious silvery eyes.

A sane man would have walked away.

A better man would have.

Instead I put my hands on her.

I kiss her all over again in my memory, and my grip tightens on the wheel until the leather makes my palms sweat.

Her lips locked tight beneath mine.

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