Page 148 of Sinful Pleasure

“I would like for you to let me go.”

My words came out steady, though my pulse was racing. The way he was looking at me made me feel both exposed and locked in place.

He chuckled, his warm breath spilling over my face. I fought the instinct to flinch. His hand brushed my ponytail off my shoulder, and my skin prickled under the contact.

He was too close and his presence was too much—impossibly far, yet intimately near.Memories flooded my mind—the feel of his tattooed, rough hands onmy body, exploring it not long ago.

I shut the thoughts down, forcing myself to stay in the present.

“Sending me a present for my birthday was very generous of you,” he murmured, his thumb now brushing my lower lip, his gaze following it like he was debating whether to kiss me.

“Judging by the sweet letter you left me, I thought you were eager to see me again.” He pressed his thumb harder against my lip, his eyes darkening with something that felt dangerously close to hunger.

“But now you’re standing here, and you’re not so brave anymore, hmm?” His eyebrows arched, daring me to break.

My body still reacts this way to him, still aches for him, even though my mind wants to push him away.

I despise him, but I can’t deny how badly my body craves his touch. I don’t know whether I want to kiss him or kill him more right now.

He ducks his head, his breath brushing against my lips, too close, too dangerous.

“Tell me, Miss Romano, do you want to hurt me?” he murmurs, his scent overwhelming, intoxicating me.

“Yes.”I say it while my eyes are locked on his lips, betraying how much I still want him.

“Good.” His voice is thick with satisfaction, the kind that comes from knowing he has the upper hand. “It turns me on,” he adds, his mouth curling into that sharp, arrogant smile I used to crave.

I hate him.I also hate how much I want him.

“You’re disgusting,” I say, the words coming out more breathless than I care to admit. “Let me go.”

His eyes trace every inch of my face, my neck, my lips, like he’s studying me, taking in the familiar and the new. The room feels too small, and I feel trapped—trapped in his arms, his gaze and presence.

“You don’t want me to,” he says, his lips brushing my hot neck.

I grip his hand in mine, my knuckles turning white, trying to hold onto any shred of control I have left.

“Your body is betraying you, Miss Romano,” he murmurs, rolling my last name off his tongue like it’s something toxic.

He pressed me harder against the table.

“I bet if I slide my hand under that little dress of yours,” he says, his voice low and filled with temptation, “I’ll find you soaking wet for me.”

His hand traps mine on the table, pushing me further into it, and I can feel it all.Oh, God.

I’m on fire, and he’s holding the matches in his hand.

Look where it got me the last time. I need to be stronger than this.

For me. For my family.

For everything the Kings have taken from us.

“You can try,” I bite out, my voice sharp, “and I’ll cut your hand off.”

His lips twitch in response, and I can hear the amusement in his voice. “I like it rough.”

I bite my lip to stop myself from reaching out for him. I know I shouldn’t, but it’s like fighting an unstoppable force. I thought these months apart would be enough to erase him—to forget the lies, the kisses, the way his touch used to consume me.

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