Page 17 of Protect Me

His gaze drops from the ceiling and falls on me. His eyes harden and darken. “I don’t do those things anymore, little girl.”

Anymore? Was there a time in his life when he casually killed people?

I swallow.

The more the thought runs through my mind, the more plausible it seems. The more plausible it becomes, the less disgust I feel. It’s kind of fucking hot.

But Vance Lore is not going to kill anyone for me or anyone in my family, because he hates people like us. Aside from professional ventures, he avoids our kind at all costs.

“Of course not. I wasn’t really asking you to kill him,” I say before his hand brushes down my side.

“Why are you in my bed, Bella?” he asks again, his breath teasing the back of my neck. “You aren’t the type who needs comforting. If you sat up and thought about your miserable marriage, you’d just catch your bed on fire with your anger, not tuck tail to come into my bed.”

My hand clenches around a loose corner of his shirt. He’s not wholly wrong, but instead of catching my bed on fire, my anger about my impending marriage made me want him. Not his comfort. Just him.

“I don’t want your comfort.” I rip away from him and sit up. The moment I try to rise to my feet, his hand reaches for my shoulder and tugs me back.

“Don’t be a brat,” he whispers. “Comfort doesn’t always mean something bad. I don’t think you’re sad or scared. I think you want to be touched.”

“I sure the fuck do not.” I try to pull away from his stoney grasp.

He lifts his hand and shrugs. “Oh, I must have read this wrong. Sorry.”

He goes to turn over, and the way he flips shit around on me enrages me. I’m used to having everything on my terms.

Which is why I’ll be a terrible fucking wife.

“Wait.” The word squeezes out of a throat that does not want to beg for attention. But I can’t stop myself.

He ignores me and draws a deep breath.

I scoff and lean over, draping my arm across his waist and lowering my hand toward his cock. The moment I graze the hard, swollen head through his boxers, he rips my hand away. I pull free from his grasp and get out of his bed with a huff.

I’ve come to the damning conclusion that if I was dying and the only thing that could cure me was his dick, he’d let me fucking rot.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Vance

I like this game—probably because Isabella doesn’t—but soon she’ll be married off to some prick. My job will be done, and we can all move the fuck on from this.

I turn onto my back. I ache for her, but I can’t keep doing this. I’m not allowed to want something so virginal when she’s already hanging on to her innocence by a thread. If I had let her, she’d have jerked me off and I would have come in her forbidden hand.

But I stopped her.

Because...well, fuck, I don’t know why. I guess it doesn’t take away from her virginity if I spill my load on her pure skin or put my mouth on her pretty little cunt.

The frustration behind that evil thought eats away at my dignity.

I get out of bed and slip out the door. The carpet cushions each step as I make my way to her room. I push open the door and see her form beneath the weighted blanket.

She’s not sleeping. I know she’s been lying awake and thinking about me too. I bet if I walk over to her and spread her thighs, she’ll be soaked for me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s a creamy mess from getting herself off. I should have watched the camera.

Fuck it.

I make my way across her bedroom, lift the corner of the blanket, and crawl into bed with her. My cock is already hard from the thought of how wet she might be, and it rests against her lower back as I lay behind her. Before she can say something to annoy me, I hook my hand around her hip and lower it down the front of her shorts.

Her slit is soaked with slick wetness. Her lips part and I expect some sarcastic comment to leave them, but only a soft whimper slips through as my fingers glide through her excitement.

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