Page 61 of A Beautiful Crime

I’m dying to taste her. Salivating at the mouth wanting, no,needingto know how she tastes.

My blood does more than sing for her, it’s roaring in my veins.

I feel the heat of her gaze before I reopen my eyes. Her desire mirrors my own. And I don’t think she has realized it, of course she hasn’t because if she did she would hate herself for it, but she swallows the little space left between us.

My hand is still collared around her delicate throat and her body is flush against mine.

What sweet fucking torture. To have her this close and not be able to own her how I long to.

Her pupils are blown. The choppy and rapid rise and fall of her chest indicates the arousal she can’t deny.

I can bet every single dollar I have right down to the very cent that if I were to slide my finger along her slit she would be wet for me.

To prove I wouldn’t lose this bet of mine her thighs clench together.

With my free hand I caress her cheek with my knuckles. Her lips part from the tender touch. And all I can imagine is how well she can fit my cock in her mouth. I can see her tears now as my cock hits the back of her throat.

“Soon, mia leonessa,” I promise her lowly, my voice having grown huskier. “Very, very soon.”

As if my promise is too much to hear for her she dazedly blinks up at me before I can see her disengaging from the part of herself she denies.

“Carina Fiore,” her name naturally rolls off my tongue in a seductive purr, “what a beautiful lie you are.”

Her eyes flash then. Heat of anger rather than desire. Either one excites me. Both having my cock as hard as steel.

She creates distance between us. Taking a healthy step back but the fire between us remains.

I can only imagine what it will finally be like when the flames consume us both. Will we burn with passion? Melt to one another until we become one?

I refuse to believe we are just a flicker. A flame that can be burned out in the night by a gentle sweep of air.

What we will have will be an everlasting flame. Burning still after the both of us are dead.

“I’m not a lie,” she vehemently says but the doubt scrawled upon her face says otherwise.

“Aren’t you?” I raise a brow. I keep my voice low, only loud enough for her to hear. “This emotionless facade you wear for the public eye and those around you masks what lives inside you.”

Her eyes narrow as her lips twist with false disdain. “You think you know me so well.”

My lips form a devilish smirk. “I don’t think anything, Carina. What terrifies you is how well I know you. More than you know yourself.”

Her reply is about to be scathing. It’s in her eyes, I can tell. But before she can spew more lies to the both of us I turn towards her brother.

With a brow raised I ask of him, “Perhaps you can tell me why it looks as if someone was trying to strangulate Carina to death.”

I keep a careful eye on his body language. Any detail, small or grand, to help me detect whether what he is about to say is of truth.

And at this given moment he’s fitting more as the guilty suspect rather than an innocent.

His complexion pales just the slightest bit. His fingers tap an uneven rhythm against his outer thigh, and his eyes seek for his sister’s.

All of this damning evidence happens within mere seconds. Then, all too soon, it disappears.

He plasters a smile on his face, one too wide to be taken as genuine. “Don Fiore and I thought it would be best if I taught Carina self defense. I had her spar me and several of my soldiers.”

“Self defense,” I echo doubtfully.

He nods his head. “Si,” he smiles brightly, laying the charm on thick. “Papa and I know how men in our social standings treat women. We wanted Carina to be prepared.”

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