Page 37 of Corrupt Vows

I don’t know how much of that he remembers. Even at such a young age, I could tell he wasn’t all there.

That was three years before I saw my father torture and murder a man. In my trauma, I buried everything before then.

This is the first time I’ve been in a car alone with Nico Russo. The realization sends shock down my spine.

I jump when he covers my hands with one of his. Belatedly, I stop wringing my fingers together in my lap.

He pulls up to the guard station at the back of his building and nods at the man inside the shack as the metal bollards retract into the ground. I watch in stunned silence as he continues to a second security checkpoint. He uses his thumbprint on his phone to open the metal gate before driving through.

“We’ll add you to the database tomorrow morning. Once your information is in the system, you can enter through any door or gate and use any elevator you want. I’ll give you a tour before you leave for class tomorrow.”

I stare at his profile, not sure how to respond to him, especially after he so casually mentioned me going to class in the morning.

It isn’t until he parks and exits the car that I realize how bright he keeps the parking garage. He slams his door and walks around the hood before opening my door.

I push away my brain fog and look up—and up—to meet his eyes.

Not long ago, he kneeled before me, but now he towers over me. My insides quiver.

I grab the handle to swing my legs out, but he stoops down and lifts me as though I weigh nothing. I squeak as cool air brushes against my ass, but he jostles me around and tucks the hem of my skirt against the back of my thighs with his forearm before kicking the door closed and stalking toward the elevators.

When he lifts his arm to press his thumb against the scanner to open the glass doors, I squeak and hook my arms around the back of his neck.

“You can put me down,” I say.

“I’m not letting you go until you’re in my bed.”

Apprehension steals my voice.

He walks into the glass room, mashes the elevator button, and steps over the threshold when the doors immediately open. Our murky reflection taunts me as he presses the second from the top button.

He surprises me by giving me a quick explanation as he points to each button, top to bottom, “Private roof, top floor—our apartment, Natalie, my father, two empty floors for family use, emergency exit on floor two, garage.”

He steps back and asks, “Got it?”

I nod.

“Thank fuck. I can’t wait anymore. Give me your lips.”

“Wha--?”

He takes my mouth in a searing kiss. Every nerve in my body lights up in remembered pleasure. An inferno rages in my core, and I tighten my arms around his nape even as fear pulses down my spine.

I may not have much experience, but there’s no way the monstrosity between his legs won’t hurt when he shoves it inside me. My mind screams for me to run while perverse interest streaks through me.

He doesn’t lift his head or give me an opportunity to speak. The elevator dings. He glances forward, nips my bottom lip, and steps off the elevator as he dives deeper into my mouth.

My head spins. Heat pulses between my legs. Adrenaline pounds in my ears.

Maybe I’ll be okay. Even when he lost control and shoved his cock into my throat, he didn’t hurt me. It was terrifying and overwhelming, and I couldn’t breathe, but the soreness in my throat has already faded.

Except, as his heels click against the marble floor, fear coalesces in my chest and doesn’t disburse when his tongue gives a wicked swipe along the roof of my mouth. My toes curl in my sandals.

His fingers—his thick, wicked, skilled fingers—built me to the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, and in a fraction of my normal time. My pussy throbs in anticipation.

But no matter how skilled his digits were, they stretched me fuller than I’ve ever been, and they’re nowhere near as big as his cock.

A keypad beeps as he inputs the code without pausing the dueling of our tongues.

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