Page 51 of Seeking Vengeance

It’s clear in the tight set of his lips that he understands what I’m referencing.

I’ve spent every spare minute stalking my enemies since Stella moved away. Learning exactly how wonderful the Costas’ world became since they murdered Benji.

I don’t regret begging Cole not to retaliate. The years of peace were necessary to get my daughter and I back on our feet. But my spying made it clear it was now time to set things straight.

I need redemption, and they deserve to suffer.

“I don’t want to be a distraction.” Matthew lowers his hands to my waist, gripping me tight to raise me onto the counter. “The Costas aren’t a family to be messed with, Layla. Snooping around isn’t safe. I can fuck with them enough for us both. Just tell me which one of them to target and what you want done.”

And with those admissions, I’d be handing over insight I’m not willing to give. He’d know I wasn’t a scorned lover focused on a single family member. He’d be fully aware my thirst for revenge runs far deeper, my intentions more vicious than spying due to lover’s heartbreak.

“Let me think on it,” I lie.

I can’t.

I won’t.

I have to do this without him.

I spread my thighs, welcoming him between my legs, succumbing to the allure of his strength just for a moment. He has no cluemyfamily are far more insidious than the Costas.

Dark folktales have been created about my brother. Worse were made with my father in mind.

It’s a given in the criminal world. Ghost stories are brought to life from a slither of reality. Like the Butcher Boys of Baltimore.

The Dark Death in Dallas.

Freddy Fingers from Arizona.

My brother’s enforcer—Hunter—has his own moniker, too, one I’m sure was built on fact.

But Emmanuel Costa is different. He isn’t a blip on the underworld radar. And he sure as hell doesn’t scare me.

“Think as long as you like.” Matthew leans closer, brushing the tips of our noses, the intimate contact making me yearn for things I can’t have. “There’s no rush as long as I know you’re mine.”

His possessive words coil around me, strong and delicious. I eat them up despite knowing they’re not meant for me. Notmadefor the type of person I am.

He wouldn’t even think them if he knew who I was.

“You don’t under—”

He cuts me off with a kiss, punishing and hard, before retreating. “I can make this work, Layla. Just tell me it’s what you want.”

It is.

God,how it is.

I want him and us and this.

I want fun and happiness and lust.

I crave all the things he’s shown me and all those that wait in the wings. But—

“Stop thinking yourself out of this and tell me what I want to hear,” he whispers against my lips. “I want you,amore mio.And I know you want me, too. Chemistry doesn’t lie.”

No, it doesn’t. I’d never even known the power of attraction until we met. The strength of it. The delicate suffocation of sense and control.

I stare into those demanding eyes, hating how easy it would be to lead him on just for a few more moments of bliss.

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