Page 123 of Sinful Desires
She faltered for a breath, then straightened her spine and rolled her shoulders. She turned slowly, gaze flat. “We both love to watch. It’s our new kink.”
Her voice was sugar poured over a blade. Sweet until it cuts.
“After a year locked up, all I craved was freedom.” She shrugged, casting a glance around the room like she wasn’t suffocating in it. “Guess I went overboard. But what can I say? I’m just a girl, Mister LeRoy.”
I stepped in. Closer. Her breath hitched.
“So, freedom means sitting pretty while your boyfriend drools over someone else’s tits?” I tilted my head, letting the disgust drip out of my mouth. “That’s what turns you on now, Miss Harper?”
She let out a scoff. “Please. As if you’ve never looked.”
“I haven’t.” And it was the fucking truth. “The only woman who has ever crowded my head is you.”
I leaned closer, just enough for her scent to crawl into my bloodstream.
Sweet lavender. Same scent. Same goddamn trigger.
“If I was yours, I’d dig my own eyes out and hand them to you before I ever looked at someone else. I’d do it because you already owned me. You wouldn’t even have to ask. I’d bleed for you without flinching, because my pain means nothing when it’s yours.”
I meant every goddamn word, and I hated myself for it. Hated that after everything she’d lied about, I’d still crawl if she whispered my name.
But I hadn’t needed to do it. Because there hadn’t been a second in four fucking years where she wasn’t the only thing I saw.
She swallowed, and for a blink, she broke. That glass-hard mask cracked just enough. Her lips twitched.
“Well?…” she said quietly, voice catching at the edge. “Good thing you’re not mine, then. Your ophthalmologist would be thrilled.”
I could’ve laughed. Could’ve grabbed her by the throat and kissed her until she stopped pretending. But I just stared.
Not yet.
She’d come back to me. Back to what’s hers.
Even if I had to crawl. Even if I bled. Even if she broke me just to see if I’d stay.
I would. I fucking would. Because she was the only thing I’d ever belonged to. I was never meant to belong to anyone else.
She walked quickly, shoulders stiff, slipping between Victoria and her asshole boyfriend, and sat down without looking at me.
Just then, the sound of heels echoed sharply against the floor. A dancer climbed onto the stage, as music throbbed through the speakers.
I moved behind their booth, at the back of the room, silent. From there, I could scan the space, monitor every entrance, every shift in the crowd. But mostly, it gave me a perfect line of sight.
Right to her.
We’d been stuck in this goddamn circus for two hours.
Most men would be jerking off to the memory of a night like this. Tits everywhere, asses in their face, drinks poured like water, women grinding for tips and fake praise. Idiots slapping backs like they’d earned it.
To them, this was heaven. To me, it was rot.
The stench of sweat and perfume. Drunk hands grabbing at whatever they could afford for ten seconds of attention. Girls faking moans and smiling through dead eyes.
And then her. The prettiest redhead with too much confidence and a body made to make me lose my mind.
She knew exactly how much I fucking hated noise, crowds, and the kind of music that made your teeth grind. And still, she’d dragged me here, knowing exactly what it’d do to me.
She’d gone to the bathroom twice in under fifteen minutes, just to force me through the crush of sweaty men circling like dogs. I moved behind her, close enough to block the heat of any hand that might’ve reached too far.
