Page 80 of Lord of Debauchery

Like a moth to a flame.

But there was no denying or stopping the way I felt.

He swept me into his arms as he’d done before, taking the steps slowly and carefully until we were once again inside. With his eyes locked on mine, he took long strides down the hallway, entering a stateroom I’d yet to be in. He swung me around in a full circle, allowing me to see the incredible room before easing me down to my feet.

It was silly of me to almost think of this moment as more than it was, but I sensed it in his actions, by the way he was looking at me, and by the heaviness of his breathing. Everything had changed between us.

There were no secrets, no fears of him learning anything else horrible about me and I’d sensed from day one he was an open book. He had nothing to hide, no reason to care about what anyone thought.

There was no pretense about this moment either as he rolled the light jacket from my shoulders, allowing it to hit the floor. His entire face was furrowed as he crawled his fingers down my sides, tugging the dress up ever so slowly, rolling it over my head.

I was more nervous than at any other time. While it might not make sense to anyone, if I dared tell them about our caustic relationship and how it started out, it was the truth. My breathing was shallow, my pulse erratic as I fumbled to jerk off his shirt.

Suddenly, everything became a huge blur, a frenzy of need as we were becoming even closer.

Everything he’d told me shouldn’t make any sense, but I had no doubt my father was involved. It was so like him to want to rule the world, acting as if the only way to get everything he wanted was through brutality and violence.

I couldn’t be certain if Beckham and his family were any different, but I sensed an urgency in his conviction. It was almost as if he had a deep longing to protect what little could be considered normal about his life. His clothes were suddenly off and I was allowed to feel the heat shared between us. It was unfathomable to think I wanted this man as much as I did.

Being by his side was worth taking the risk of not only finding myself locked inside a dangerous world but losing myself to it in the process.

The only hope I had was that he wouldn’t crush my rather fragile heart along the way.

As he’d done so many times before, he cupped both sides of my face, yet the hold was entirely different. Even more intimate. He kept his fingers fanned out, using his thumbs, brushing them aimlessly back and forth. The way he was slowly shifting his head was so telling, so inviting.

And so damning.

He was accepting me into his world, into his life. It was supposed to have been a long time coming, not after he’d threatened me with bodily harm.

And the toxicity continued.

The man seemed taller and stronger, his muscles as rock hard as his cock. Everything about him screamed with passion. However, I was prodded by the voice inside, reminding me he was also a ferocious animal.

A self-proclaimed one.

That became even more evident when he crushed his lips against mine. We’d kissed several times before, but it had always seemed as if he was playing along, performing the act instead of enjoying the moment. Right now, he exuded sexual prowess but also a strange hint of desperation, the same frenzied need I’d felt all along for him.

Maybe the savage man was letting go.

Maybe I was losing more screws in my mind.

The kiss was a whispered breath at first, the taste of him a crazy concoction of wine and scotch, champagne and something that hinted of wild raspberries. I could easily get swept away in the moment, falling into a trap of his making.

He was dominating in every way, tonight no different except the explosion of feelings shifting back and forth. I was high on the intoxicating moment, perhaps drunk on the possibility that one day I could love this man.

One day.

If we had the time to get to know each other.

If the world survived whatever insanity was coming our way.

He swept his tongue inside, drinking from me as if it was his life’s blood. I was breathless both from the intensity of my need and the way he was kissing me. Frantically. Manically.

Like a man possessed.

Seconds later, he crawled us both onto the bed, sliding an arm under me and easing me down to the comforter. I was pitched into another strange series of emotions, sliding into another push and pull moment. But as he broke the kiss, brushing his lips from one side of my jaw to the other, I no longer cared about fighting him.

What was the point? He would still take what he wanted.

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