Page 8 of Toxic

I back away, maintaining the illusion of propriety even as excitement thrums through me. This cat-and-mouse game, this dance of desire and restraint, is everything I’ve ever wanted. “No one ever tells everything, Mr. Rivers,” I reply smoothly. “Especially not in our circles.”

He stalks me across the room with a predatory grace that belies his intoxicated state. When my back hits the wall, he plants one hand beside my head, the other wrapping around my throat. The heat of him, the scent of his cologne mixed with the musk of his skin, is overwhelming.

FOUR

The city lights blur past the tinted windows of the sleek, black sedan as we approach my penthouse. Each flash of neon feels like a jolt to my drug-addled system, but I force my mind to remain sharp, focused on the woman beside me—Devin West. My Devin West.

I’ve missed her so fucking much. Seeing her again is like getting water after a drought. Dark hair cascades over her shoulders, framing a face I’ve dreamed about for years. Her striking green eyes, the same ones that have haunted me since her birthday party, now watch me with a mixture of concern and something darker, more intriguing.

As we pull up to the private entrance, I steel myself. The drug may be coursing through my veins, but I can’t show my hand. Not now. Not when I finally have her within reach after all this time.

“We’re here, Mr. Rivers,” she says, her voice low and controlled. The sound of it sends a shiver down my spine. How many times have I imagined her saying my name? “Let me help you inside.”

I nod, allowing her to assist me out of the car. I let my stride falter, playing up the drug’s effects. Her arm slips aroundmy waist, and the contact, even through layers of clothing, feels electric. Her grip tightens slightly, supporting me, and I have to stifle a groan at the feeling of her body pressed against mine.

“Careful,” she murmurs, her breath warm against my ear. “Just a few more steps.”

We approach the entrance, and to my surprise, Devin inputs the access code without hesitation. My security system is state-of-the-art, known only to a select few. Yet she navigates it with the ease of familiarity. Interesting. Very interesting. What other secrets are you hiding, Devin?

“Is it really you?” I ask, wanting to hear her speak.

“It’s me.”

The penthouse doors slide open silently, revealing the expansive living area beyond. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city skyline, the lights twinkling like stars against the night sky. The space feels charged, alive with an electric tension that crackles between us.

I stumble, this time genuinely caught off guard by a wave of dizziness. “Sorry,” I mutter, leaning more heavily on her. The scent of her perfume—something floral with an underlying musk—envelops me. “Everything’s... spinning.” It’s an easy lie and perfect to keep her near me.

“You should sit down,” she says, guiding me toward the leather couch. Her hand splays across my back, steadying me, and I swear I can feel the heat of her palm through my suit jacket. It takes every ounce of self-control not to lean into her touch, to demand more.

I watch through half-lidded eyes as she moves to the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of water. Each step is purposeful and confident, her hips swaying in a way that draws my gaze like a magnet. She navigates my space as if she knows it intimately, and the sight stirs something primal within me. This is not thefragile girl from six years ago. There’s more to this Devin than meets the eye, and I’m determined to uncover every layer.

“Mr. Rivers,” she says, her voice wavering slightly. “You’ve been drugged. You need to drink this and rest.”

She offers me the glass, but as I reach for it, I let my fingers wrap around her wrist instead. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I have to stifle a groan. I hear a small gasp escape her lips, and the sound ignites something urgent within me.

I sense my eyes darken with desire, and I see the effect it has on her—the slight dilation of her pupils, the quickening of her breath. Fuck, how I’ve missed her. I don’t want to think about how one night with her stopped me from wanting any other woman since. She’s been the only person in my mind for six years.

“I don’t want to rest,” I murmur, leaning in close. I let my breath ghost across her cheek, reveling in the shiver that runs through her body. “I want you. Fuck, I want you so much it hurts.”

The words aren’t entirely an act. The drug may be amplifying my desires, but the want—the need—for Devin has been simmering for years. Now, with her so close, it’s all I can do not to claim her right here, right now. I’ve been waiting for her. Now, I can have her.

“Mr. Rivers,” she says softly, not pulling away despite the hesitation in her voice. “You’re not yourself right now.”

I laugh, a low, dark sound that I see sends a flush creeping up her neck. “I’ve never felt more like myself,” I tell her, bringing my free hand up to cup her cheek. The softness of her skin under my palm is intoxicating, and I have to resist the urge to pull her closer.

She leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. The sight of her, so responsive to my touch, so clearlywanting this as much as I do, nearly breaks my resolve. I want to take her right here, consequences be damned. This game we’re playing is too delicious to end so soon.

With what seems like considerable effort, Devin extracts herself from my grasp. “You need to rest,” she tells me, but I hear the strain in her voice and see the way her body unconsciously leans toward mine even as she steps away.

I narrow my eyes, letting a flash of my usual sharpness break through the drug’s manufactured fog. “You’re holding back,” I accuse, following her as she retreats into the living room. Every step feels like I’m being pulled by an invisible thread, my body gravitating toward hers.

She backs away, but I can see the excitement thrumming through her, belying her attempt at propriety. “No one ever tells everything, Mr. Rivers,” she replies smoothly. “Especially not in our circles.”

Her words are a challenge, and I feel a thrill run through me. This cat-and-mouse game, this dance of desire and restraint, is everything I’ve ever wanted. We started this game six years ago and now we can finally play.

I stalk her across the room, my movements purposeful despite my supposed intoxication. When her back hits the wall, I plant a hand next to her head and wrap the other around her throat, holding her still. I squeeze but she’s not showing any fear.

The heat of her body, the scent of her perfume mixed with something uniquely her, is overwhelming. I lean in close, squeeze her throat, and brush my lips over her ear. “Tell me,” I demand and bite on her earlobe. “Why, Devin,” my voice is low and rough. “Why can’t I get you out of my head.”

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