Page 32 of Brutal Devil
In the next second, his body is against mine, a hard wall of muscled power. His head dips low, so that we’re eye to eye, his palms flattened to the wall on either side of my face.
He’s furious.
“Do you have a fucking death wish?” he snarls.
“No. That’s why I was trying to escape.”
“Running away is going to get you killed.”
“Not if no one catches me.”
“Someone will always catch you,topolina. You’re in this too deep now.”
I shake my head, wishing that my body weren’t reacting to his. “I’mnotin this. Let me go. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to marry you. Let me go back to Iowa and forget any of this ever happened. You’ll never see me again.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just gives me a hard stare, his jaw rigid, eyes sparking with fury, like live electric wires downed by a vicious storm. My heart is still beating fast, so damn fast. But not just from my escape attempt anymore. Now, it’s partially because of him.
He drags a finger down my throat. Just one, stopping to rest in the hollow at the base. He’s so beautiful. I want to be immune to him, but Priest is as sexy as he is psycho. A devil with the face of an angel.
He moves his hand, palm flattening, fingers wrapping around me. “Do you know how easily I could snap your neck right now?”
He squeezes gently, proving his point.
I think he’s deadly serious about this threat. But I also like the way his hand feels on me. I like the power he’s exerting over me. The dominance, the control, his big body pressing into mine, trapping me here. It’s something I never knew I would crave, and the knowledge scares me more than anything else.
“Do it,” I taunt him.
But he doesn’t listen. Instead, his lips slam down on mine, hot and demanding. The kiss is cruel and it’s powerful and drugging. His tongue is in my mouth, claiming, taking. I should bite it, but I suck on it instead. My hands are on his rock-hard chest, but I’m not pushing him away. Instead, I’m grasping hisexpensive suit, clinging to him like a barnacle. Like I’ll fall apart if I let go.
And maybe I will.
My ankle throbs from the spill I almost took on the pavement. But my enemy is kissing me like his life depends on it, and I’m kissing him back the same way.
“Boss?”
The voice has him freezing and wrenching his lips from mine. Priest is still furious, glaring down at me like he doesn’t know if he wants to fuck me or tear me into tiny pieces and scatter them where no one will ever find me.
“What is it, Roc?” he asks without looking away.
A lock of dark hair falls across his forehead, and I narrowly resist the urge to smooth it away. It’s toowifely, and I don’t want to be this man’s wife. I don’t want to be his anything.
“Scusa,” his bodyguard says from somewhere down the hall. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
My heart has never pounded so hard. And I’ve never felt more alive.
Priest’s fingers are still wrapped around my neck in what I suspect is a deceptively loose hold.
“Care to explain why I caught my wife running down the sidewalk?” he asks casually, still not bothering to look in Rocco’s direction.
“It may have something to do with Saint’s broken nose,” Rocco responds, his tone flat.
I bite my lip. I broke his nose? That explains why my head aches almost as much as my ankle. Part of me feels guilty. The other part of me knows I did what I had to do.
“You punched him?” Priest asks me softly.
“I…headbutted him,” I admit, not proud of myself. “I didn’t mean to break his nose.”
“Fuck,” he swears, then releases me so quickly that I have to struggle to keep from falling over in my uncomfortable heels. My back is pressed to the cool wall, my palms flattened on either side to keep me steady. The familiar musty church smell of candles, old wood, and books replaces Priest’s intoxicating scent. Which is just as well, because I swear to God, that combination cast a spell on my ovaries.
