Page 75 of Vicious Addictions

“I’m not playing.” I scoff, pulling away from his grip to continue yanking at the stubborn zipper. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about! I’m talking about that little stunt you pulled back at Pavlin’s office.”

“You mean me saving our asses? Is that what’s got you so worked up? How about a simple ‘you’re welcome’ instead of whatever alpha ego trip you’re on right now.”

“Will you just stop with the one-woman act already and be serious for a moment? You and I know we could’ve found another way to get out of there.” His voice is a low growl. “You didn’t have to—”

“Didn’t have to what? Pretend I was about to blow you? Why are you so upset about how I handled the situation when my way worked just fine?” I let out a relieved exhale, finally managing to get the zipper unstuck and the dress loose. “Or are you mad because you think it didn’t look believable enough?”

His jaw tightens. “Oh, it looked believable,” he utters, his voice laced with something dangerous. “Too goddamn much.”

His eyes burn at me as if they could set the whole damn room on fire.

“Mind telling me where you learned that little trick?” He steps closer, his tone dark and edged with malice. “I want a name, Mina. Who the fuck taught you that shit?”

A slow, mocking smile tugs at my lips as I lock my unflinching gaze with his. “You think you’re the only man in my life? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Answer the fucking question, Mina! Who the fuck did you go on your knees for?!” he shouts, grabbing my shoulders again. “Was it Felix? Did you fuck him?!”

The sharp crack of my palm against his cheek rings out before I even register what I’ve done.

“No one taught me!” I snap, jerking myself free from his grip. “No one, you jealous idiot! I’ve never…” But the rest of my words catch in my throat, refusing to come out. For all my newfound experience in the world of mafia dealings, when it comes to sex, I’m still a complete novice, thanks to him.

But by the way Jude is looking at me right now—like he’s about to devour me whole—I’m not sure he intends to leave me clueless for long.

“Are you lying to me?” he says with a little less heat behind his words, though his gaze still holds the same burning fire in his eyes.

“What does it matter to you anyway?” I retort, my shoulders slumping slightly. It saddens me that he’d ever think I’d give myself so easily to someone I didn’t love. That I would offer up my body and soul to someone that wasn’t him.

“It matters, Mina. It fucking matters!” he continues to rant, his rage reviving mine.

“Why? Why does it matter?” I shout back in frustration, but my anger quickly dissipates when his gaze drifts down to my lips. “Why?” I say a little lower now, my chest heaving with the smoldering look he’s giving me.

“You know why,” he says softly, the admission sucking out all the anger that had been fueling him until this point.

“No, I don’t. Because you don’t talk to me. Instead, you run and avoid me. You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing this past year? Running from me? Afraid to be alone in the same room as me in case I try to kiss you again? A kiss that you reciprocated, by the way. So tell me, how am I supposed to understand what you mean when you keep sending me all these mixed signals?”

“Maybe this will clear things up for you.” With that, whatever restraint he was still clinging onto is shattered in tattered confetti as his hand wraps around my throat, crashing his lips on mine in an electrifying instant.

He tastes like smooth, smoky whiskey, each sip rich and intoxicating, leaving a warm burn that starts igniting all my senses.

I get drunk on just one kiss, addicted to the way his tongue overpowers mine.

When my knees threaten to buckle, Jude grabs me by my hips and plants my ass on a nearby dresser, hiking up my dress with one hand while his other remains bound to my throat.

“Jude,” I whimper, my legs entwining around his waist as I pull him closer, my arms draping over his shoulders, craving the heat of his body against mine.

“Fuck, you smell good,” he moans, pulling his lips away from mine to kiss the curve of my neck.

I’ve only had a sip of champagne all night, yet coherent thought slips away from me, my mind swirling and hazy under the intoxicating spell of his touch and kiss.

“Jude,” I beg, needing something—anything—to put out this all-consuming fire burning inside me.

His hand slithers in between my thighs, my eyes rolling to the back of their sockets when I feel his knuckles lightly graze over my pussy.

“Ahh,” I whine, tightening my hold around his shoulders to keep me tethered to the moment. “Please,” I whisper in his ear, my teeth finding his lobe to nibble on.

“You don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you?” he grunts before tugging down my dress with his teeth just low enough for his mouth to find my clavicle, peppering it with kisses while rubbing his knuckles up and down my folds simultaneously.

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