Page 17 of Cruel Existence

“Luka?” she whispered. The question sounded like a command. I didn’t like taking orders, but it was a plea. An irresistible one.

I tilted her chin upward and took her lips with fierce ownership. My tongue lashed against hers. Amara dropped the paper cup of champagne on the grass and draped her hands around my neck. My mouth burned for her. I wanted to suck the alcohol from her lips. I wanted to drown in her. The purrs from her throat echoed in my ears. I nipped at her throat, inhaling her skin. Biting behind her ear and dragging my breath along her neck.

My hand traveled along her waist, following the lines of her curves. Trailing over her thighs. My fingers curled against her hip. My mind wandered as quickly as my hands. She tasted like champagne and summer. Innocence and purity in a world that was cast in darkness. Her body melded to mine.

“I want to take you back to my place,” I growled against her neck. “Show you that over-the-top view I have.”

She nodded eagerly. “Yes. I’d like to see it. Please, can we go?”

There was no guarantee she wouldn’t be under lockdown for the next month. I had her in my hands now. I wouldn’t waste what time we had before dawn broke.

It was another few minutes before we broke for air. I walked Amara to the car and kissed her quickly before shutting the door.

I tore out of the Cajun oyster joint and back toward the city. Neither one of us spoke a word. The sexual tension filled the car.

“This is it,” I announced. I parked near the rear entrance to the courtyard. I lived alone, with the exception of a few members of my staff in a multi-level apartment. The ground floor was mainly for greeting guests or making them wait when I didn’t want to take a meeting. My suite was on the top floor. And it did have a fucking incredible view.

Her eyes followed the windows to the top level. “As old as Marguerite’s?”

“It’s pretty damn old.”

Amara was captivating. She intrigued me. And it had only been a few hours since she dropped into my orbit. I wanted nothing less than to take her upstairs to my bed, but it wasn’t going to be enough.

I stroked the side of her jaw, craving her already. She blinked slowly before crossing over the console and wrapping her soft palms around my neck. My tongue thrust into her mouth, andwe started drowning again. Her dress was bunched and dislodged around her waist.

The windows began to fog. My hands navigated her curves with recent memory. Her lips parted with a gentle sigh as soon as I slid between her legs. Finally, under that short little dress that had tortured the hell out of me.

She whimpered when my fingers made contact with the edges of silk. I strummed, working the fabric out of my way. Her hips tilted, and I had the access I wanted to her clit. Fuck, she was wet. Soaked.

Her eyes opened. Gorgeous green eyes, beckoning. Calling me. She stared, catching her breath. Gulping for air. But our lips crashed together, and my fingers went to work on her clit. Massaging, grinding, toying against the pulse of her body. My fingers swirled around her opening. Sweet, innocent Amara was going to be my undoing. I couldn’t take much more of her moans without stripping the cocktail dress off her body. It was getting harder to maneuver in the car without climbing into the backseat. It was impossible for my frame to fit in the tight space. Breaking free from her seemed as impossible.

I dragged her lips from mine. “Let’s go upstairs.” I cupped between her legs, promising her there was more to come. “More room,” I growled.

She nodded reluctantly. I wouldn’t say the words out loud, but the energy between us was fucking insane. I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t know if it had a label or needed one. But the way she charged my body with kisses and long gazes. Whispers. Purrs. She was more than a one-night stand. More than a quick fuck. There was something about her I wanted. Hell, I didn’t have to name it. No one was forcing that on me. Instinct was in control now.

I filled my lungs with air and unclipped the seatbelt. Amara wiggled her underwear and dress back into place.

I left the keys inside for my regular driver to park the car in the garage. My security detail would take care of the rest when it was parked in the garage. I jogged in front of the hood to open the door and lead her inside my apartment. But I froze as soon as I heard the click-click of the gun.

I put my hands in the air before turning on my heels. Ciro was six feet from me. He had been waiting. I didn’t know how long, but the fucker was ready for us as soon as I drove in. Had he watched us? Did the steam on the windows give us any privacy?

Amara stepped out of the car slowly. “Put the gun down,” she hissed. Her skin was flushed with sweat. I had kissed half her makeup away.

Ciro held the gun steady. “Not until you leave with me.”

Her eyes darted to me. “I’m sorry. I have to go with him. I don’t want to, but you understand?”

I reached for her hand. I wanted to pull her back toward me. To wrap her in my arms and hurl her inside my apartment. I would barricade the door. Ciro couldn’t shoot his way through. No one could.

Our fingertips grazed quickly, but she was already at Ciro’s side.

“Put it down. Now. I’m going with you.” She stared up at her bodyguard. “You don’t need to threaten him with a gun.”

I saw the frustration welling in her eyes. “You don’t need to say anything to Mr. Amato about this, Ciro.” I shoved myhands in my pockets. “She’s safe. She was safe the entire night.”

He didn’t give any clues about whether he would take my suggestion.

“Get in the car,” he barked at Amara.

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