Page 47 of My Bloody Valentine

“That’s one word for it.” I watch him carefully. “But we both know which of us would win in a real fight.”

The tension crackles between us, decades of friendship wrapped in layers of blood and secrets. We’re both killers, but our methods couldn’t be more different. His quick and passionate, mine slow and deliberate.

“Don’t make me sort out your mess, Adrian.” Gabe adjusts his jacket collar. “Your critic better be worth burning everything we’ve built.”

“She is.” I trace the rim of Maya’s coffee cup. “Trust me.”

“That’s what worries me.” He heads for the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Remember what happened to Sarah when someone got too close. Some people aren’t meant to know our secrets.”

The bell chimes as he exits, leaving me with the gleaming display cases and cooling coffee. I lock the door, the “Closed”sign hanging ominously. There are no customers today—I have more important matters to attend to.

Taking both cups, I climb the narrow stairs to the second floor. The wood creaks beneath my feet, marking each step toward my private sanctuary. Maya’s probably awake by now.

My grip tightens on the cups as I remember how she looked last night—bound, begging, beautiful in her surrender. The marks I left will remain fresh on her skin, a reminder of who she belongs to now.

As I reach the top of the stairs, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the heady scent of jasmine perfume. Anticipation courses through me as I near the bedroom. Carefully, I push open the door, taking in the sight before me.

Maya lies curled on her side, her body relaxed in sleep. The silk night dress reveals the smooth curve of her shoulder, and my eyes trace the delicate slope of her spine, leading down to the swell of her hips. Her hair spills across the pillow, framing her delicate features.

A familiar stir of desire coils within me as I set the coffee cups on the nightstand. She looks so peaceful, innocent in her slumber. But I know the passionate creature that lies beneath that serene exterior. She transforms under my touch, shedding inhibitions like petals falling from a flower.

Time slows as I track the rise and fall of her chest, memorizing this moment. Gently, I stroke her hair, savoring its silkiness between my fingers. She murmurs softly but doesn’t wake.

My mind wanders back to last night, reliving the moment I entered her while she was still asleep. The delectable shock on her face when she realized what was happening, the sensation of her body tightening around me as she awakened to pleasure. I clamp my hand into a fist to stifle a groan at the recollection.

I lean forward, inhaling the scent of her hair, letting my lips brush her ear. “Wake up.” I nip gently at her lobe. “Time for another tasting.”

Maya shifts, a soft sound escaping her throat. I kiss her shoulder, letting my lips linger on her skin.

Her eyes flutter open, unfocused at first. Then, her gaze lands on me, and a tantalizing mix of emotions glimmer in her eyes—arousal, uncertainty, and something more—a spark of fear, perhaps.

“Morning,” she murmurs, her voice husky with sleep. “Coffee?” she asks, eyebrow-raising suspiciously.

I smile, trailing my fingers along her jaw. “Room service.”

“Room service, huh?” A small smile lifts her lips. “And here I thought I was your captive.”

I lean closer, letting my breath tickle her ear. “You are. But that doesn’t mean I can’t spoil you.”

I notice a faint bruise on her neck from last night’s passion. My mark. A surge of satisfaction washes over me and settles in my soul.

She sits up, sheets pooling at her waist, and takes one of the coffee cups. “Mmm, just what I needed.” Sipping, she closes her eyes in bliss.

“That’s not the only thing you need this morning.” I let my gaze roam over her, desire turning to heat in my veins.I clasp the back of her head, tilting her head to me, kissing her.

I pull back from Maya’s lips, studying her flushed face. Her breath comes in short gasps, pupils dilated with desire. But Gabe’s words echo in my mind like an unwelcome ghost.

“Beg me to end this.” I trail my fingers down her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my touch. “Fight back. Push me away.”

“I...” Maya’s hands press against my chest, a weak attempt at resistance. “We shouldn’t...”

I capture her mouth again, and just like before, she melts into me. Her fingers curl into my shirt instead of pushing, pulling me closer. The little sounds she makes drive me wild—half protest, half pleasure.

But is it real?

I break the kiss, gripping her chin. “Look at me.”

Her eyes meet mine, clouded with lust but also uncertainty. That flicker of fear I usually love to see now makes my stomach twist.

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