Page 91 of Dirty Damage

Her pupils are wide, dark pools when she looks up at me…

… and falls to pieces on my hand.

When she comes, I have to grit my teeth to maintain control. I’m on the edge of release just from watching her, and no woman has ever had this effect on me.

I slide out of her and sit tall, trying to steady my breathing while she is sprawled across the seat, hair fanned around her head like a halo.

“There. Now, you’re relaxed.”

She laughs, pressing a hand to her chest. “If anything, I’m more nervous. Look at me.”

Iamlooking at her—that’s the problem. I want to do a hell of a lot more than look at her.

“I don’t see any issue.”

“I look like I just got ravaged in a limo.”

“I didn’t hear any complaints while you were riding my fingers.”

My hand is sticky from her, and I grudgingly grab a tissue from the backseat to clean myself up. I want to use my mouth—see if she tastes as good as she smells.

Not now.Later.

She scrambles to a sitting position, snapping her legs closed and combing fingers through her tangled hair. “I’m just lucky I brought some spare lipstick.”

By the time we make it to the party, Sutton has managed to make herself halfway decent again, though I preferred her tousled hair and smudged lipstick.

“We’re here,” I announce as Uri opens her door.

She’s so focused on adjusting her dress that it’s not until she’s standing on the circle drive that she looks up and freezes.

“Oh my God.That’swhere your mother lives?”

The mansion looms before us, framed by towering Corinthian columns. A marble walkway lined with meticulously sculpted topiaries leads to looming bronze doors. Through the windows, crystal chandeliers cast warm light across the gathering inside.

“This is insane,” she whispers, edging closer to me.

Just like I told her to do back at the penthouse, Sutton grabs my hand. Her fingers lace through mine and squeeze.

Like she trusts me to keep her safe.

To protect her.

It’s been a long time since anyone has expected anything like that from me. Almost twenty years, to be exact.

I blink away the ghosts of my past and focus on the monsters in the present. About how best to protect my fiancée from what awaits her inside.

I squeeze back, steadying her against my side. “Don’t worry. You’ve got this, Sutton. And I’ve got you.”

26

OLEG

My mother meets us at the door, standing sentry in a bejeweled gown and six-inch heels I’m convinced are surgically affixed to her feet. I never see her without them.

Her smile is chilly, not quite hiding the curl of her upper lip. “You’re here.”

The “finally” is a silent addition that only I hear.

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