Page 9 of Secrets of the Brother
It was like the option ofmaybemade the decision to stay awaymy choice.
It gave me a weird semblance of power, despite feeling powerless and overwhelmed with sadness at the thought of walking away from him forever.
Forever wasn't truly forever until you made it so.
If I knew with certainty he murdered my sister, it would have to be forever.
If it remained a question, then forever was a construct of my own choosing.
Before I could respond, Enzo growled a curse and wrapped his strong fingers around my slim wrists. “Dammit, Bianca. You’re still mine and I’ll prove it to you.”
I lost my grip on the letter opener.
It clattered to the floor at our feet.
He used his hips to further imprison me as his mouth fell on mine.
His tongue swept inside so forcefully he stole the breath from my body. Releasing my wrists, his hands moved to cup my jaw, tilting my head back as he drove his fingers into my hair. Twisting his fist into my curls, anchoring me.
The sharp edges of my teeth pressed against the soft inner flesh of my lips as he took possession.
I whimpered, trying to turn my head away, overwhelmed by his onslaught, but his grip on my hair prevented it.
His lips moved to the corner of my mouth, the edge of my jawline. The tip of his tongue licked the tears from my cheek. His powerful body towered over me, caging me in.
He pulled back, cupping my face as he stared down at me, piercing me with his intense gaze. “Christ, I’ve missed the sweet taste of you.”
He claimed my mouth again. This time there was an edge of desperation to his kiss, as if he were a man starved. His hand moved down over my throat to cup my breast through my dress.
I moaned, lost in the feel of his touch.
Lost in the past.
His hand slid down to my waist, fingers possessively gripping my hip and sending a shiver up my spine. His teeth nipped at my bottom lip before his tongue teased mine again. He palmed the fabric of my dress, raising the hem.
The hard length of his cock pressed against my stomach. A threat and a promise.
His mouth moved down my throat as he pushed the hem of my dress higher.
He slipped his hand under my knee and lifted my leg high, allowing him to thrust his hips against my core.
I gripped his shoulder and gasped at the intimate contact.
Heat pooled in my stomach, my inner thighs clenching.
His free hand wrapped around my neck as he rasped, “I need to be inside of you. Now, baby,” against my lips.
Alone in my bed, an ocean away, I had dreamed a thousand times about what it would feel like to have him finally press his weight between my thighs and push deep inside of me.
For we'd never had a chance to be intimate when we were together.
I had wanted to take it slow.
But each time, the dream turned into the same nightmare.
Each time, I switched places with my sister, and was forced to watch as she fucked the man I loved.
And now my sister is dead.
