Page 75 of Sinister Intentions

He hauled me upright, his eyes glittering with some unreadable emotion. “This never happened,” he growled.

For a split second, I was disoriented before I came back to my senses.

I glared at him, stung by the callous dismissal. “It wasn’t me who started it or wanted it anyway,” I snapped because eventhough this was complete insanity, somehow, this kiss and being in Vince’s arms had been better than anything I’d ever experienced; had felt like I could finally take a deep breath for the first time in forever.

And him dismissing it so easily—it was infuriating and humiliating. “I have no problem pretending it never happened,” I bit out, spinning on my heel and stalking across the room.

But before I made it even halfway, he bumped into me from behind, slung his arms around me, and splayed his hand over my belly.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t good,” he murmured against my ear. “I’m just saying not to mention it in front of them.” He nodded towards the door, then he bit the spot where my neck met my shoulder before he released me and shoved me towards the door.

I walked like a zombie, but I could feel the mark he’d left on my skin as much as the weight of his stare boring into my back every step of the way.

And both left me more confused—and conflicted—than ever.

What did he even mean?

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Istared at the amber liquid swirling in my glass, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. How could I have lost control like that? Kissing Jemma—was a line I should never have crossed.

Not that kidnapping her, undressing her, and her watching me jerk off was any better.

But this…this was another level.

She was a thorn in my side, the enemy. She’d hacked our servers and stolen my money, and the only reason I got entangled with her was to detain her and get her under control.

And as if that wasn’t enough, she was my goddamn future sister-in-law. Completely off-limits.

Gritting my teeth, I drained the glass, the burn of the whiskey a welcome distraction from the inferno raging within me. What the hell was wrong with me?

She was too young. Eleven years younger, to be precise. Twenty-one to my thirty-two. Absolutely off-limits.

Fuck.

I’d never had a thing for younger women. Too immature, too irresponsible, too high maintenance.

Jemma was all of those things and so much more.

She was both infuriating and a giant pain in the ass.

And yet, when she’d been pressed against me, every rational thought had fled my mind, replaced by an all-consuming hunger that rattled me with its intensity.

I could still taste her on my lips, still feel the softness of her body molded to mine. The way she’d looked up at me with those defiant eyes, her lips parted in a silent challenge—it would be enough to drive any man insane.

And I was a lot of things. But above all, I was a man. And I was already there, teetering on the edge of madness every time she was near.

Holy fuck. The memory of that kiss was seared into my mind, replaying on a maddening loop.

I slammed the glass down and ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration.

Get a grip, Salvini.

This was Jemma Donnelly, the girl who’d been a constant thorn in my side. She was a perpetual source of chaos and defiance—the one person who seemed immune to my charm, my aggressiveness, my moods, and my very presence.

There was nothing that had fazed her.

And that was part—a major part—of her allure.

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