Page 181 of Sinful Pleasure

So why was he touching me?

“You know there’s nothing to worry about here,” he said softly, his thumb stroking my hand. “You’re safe with me.”

That’s the problem. I didn’t want safe.

I craved madness, chaos, darkness.

Things Theo Stone can never give me.

I forced a smile, nodding in silent agreement.

The silence between us grew heavier, settling like an unwelcome guest. His expression grew tense, his gaze fixed on the distance— as if he were lost in his own thoughts. After what felt like an eternity, his ice-blue eyes met mine and his gaze softened.

“I want this to work. I’ll try to make it work, but you have to meet me halfway.”

His words came out of nowhere, catching me off guard.

He shouldn’t be so kind to me. He shouldn’t look at me like he really wants me. His gaze flickered to my lips, lingering there like he was considering something.

Shit.

“It’s not like we have a choice, is it?” I replied, my voice quieter than I intended.

“I’m not Angelo,” he said firmly.

“I’m sorry for everything you went through because of The Kings. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re happy with me.”If only he could.

His eyes drifted down, and this time he didn’t hesitate. His hand rose to my cheek, brushing it with a tenderness I didn’t know what to do with.

His lips pressed to my other cheek in a gentle, sweet kiss, and I was stunned into place. When he pulled back, his gaze was soft and warm, looking at me as if he really wanted me.

“Let’s head back inside. They’ll be looking for us soon. It’s almost time for our first dance.”

“I’ll join you in a minute. I just need a little time alone to clear my head,” I said with a smile.

He nodded, flashing me a smile before vanishing into the shadows, heading toward the mansion’s far entrance.

My thoughts were already a mess, and that kiss only made things worse. I deserved someone who looks at me the way Theo Stone did, who will touch me like I was precious, like I mattered.

But my body craves something entirely different. Rough hands that know only how to corrupt, not comfort. Lips that burn against my skin and a filthy mouth that spits poison with every word.

I stood from the bench, smoothing my dress, running a hand through my hair. I steeled myself to go back inside and fake a smile for the rest of the night.

But before I could take a single step, something cold and hard pressed against my temple and a hand clamped over my mouth, muffling the scream that never fully formed.

A gun.

The scent hit me first—sharp and painfully familiar.

It sent a shiver racing down my spine.

I knew those hands, the way they gripped me.

That’s why my body wasn’t fighting. It recognized them.

I felt his grin, cruel and unapologetic, as he leaned in close, his breath brushing against my ear.

The gun pressed harder into my temple.

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