Page 74 of Porcelain Lies

“Tell me how you got this.” I lift the bag with my free hand, watching her face. “Vsyo. Everything.”

She tries to look away. I catch her chin, forcing her gaze back to mine. The touch of her skin burns against my fingers.

“I-I called him. Asked for help.” Her voice wavers. “He agreed to meet.”

“And the price?” Ice creeps into my tone. The marks of shame on her face tell me what I don’t want to hear.

“He…”

“He what?”

She swallows hard. “Made it clear what he wanted in exchange.”

Something dark and violent rises in my chest. The bag drops from my hand as I slam my palm against the wall beside her head. She flinches but doesn’t cower.

“He forced you.” The words come out in a growl.

“I needed the money for my brother.” Her chin lifts slightly. “I made the choice.”

“Choice?” The word tastes like acid. “Maranzano blackmailed you with your brother’s life.”

Tears well in her eyes but don’t fall. “What else could I do?”

The image of Maranzano touching her, using her desperation against her, makes my vision blur red. My grip on her hip becomes bruising as possessive fury courses through me.

She wasminefirst.

The memory of our night together burns hot against this violation.

“He will pay.” The promise comes out lethal and low. “No one touches what’s mine.”

Her breath catches. “Yours?”

“That night at the hotel.” I lean closer, letting her feel my anger, my possession. “You became mine then. He had no right.”

Her expression shifts, but I capture her mouth with mine before she can say something, claiming what that peacock Maranzano tried to steal. Her body stiffens at first, but then, she melts into my touch, gasping against my lips. I swallow the sound, deepening the kiss as my hand slides from her hip to the small of her back.

She tastes like mint and something sweet. Woman. The same intoxicating flavor I remember from that night. My fingers tangle in her hair, angling her head to give me better access. When her hands clutch at my shirt, the last thread of my control snaps.

I press her harder against the wall, my body against hers. The kiss turns savage, possessive. Each stroke of my tongue erases Maranzano’s touch, replaces his violation with my claim. She whimpers, but her body melts into mine, accepting, yielding.

The rage that burned through me moments ago transforms into something else entirely. Heat pools low in my gut as she responds, giving as good as she gets. Her nails scrape against my chest through the fabric of my shirt, and I growl into her mouth.

“Moya,” I breathe against her lips between kisses. “Mine.”

She shivers, and I feel it everywhere we touch. The soft curves of her body fit perfectly against my harder planes, just like I remember. But this time there’s no pretense of anonymity, no illusion of a single night. This is raw and real and marked with possession.

My hand drops to her thigh, hiking it up against my hip as I deepen the kiss further. She moans, the sound shooting straight through me. The party beyond these walls fades away until there’s nothing but her taste, her scent, the way she moves against me.

I back her toward the mahogany desk, my hands steady on her hips. She follows my lead, trusting despite everything that’s happened. When her legs hit the edge, I lift her easily, setting her on the polished surface.

Her eyes lock with mine as I slowly unbutton her blouse. My fingers brush against soft skin with each movement, drawing small gasps from her lips. The silk parts to reveal a delicate camisole underneath.

“Krasivyy,” I murmur, sliding the blouse from her shoulders. She shivers at my touch, but not from fear. The same electricity from that night at the hotel crackles between us.

She reaches for my tie, but I catch her hands. “Be still,” I tell her. I have something else in mind.

I take my time with each piece of clothing, stripping her until she lies across the desk wearing nothing but black lace panties.

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