Page 58 of Brutal Devil
I can hear it whirring, coming closer.
“It is a good evening now, Joey,” Priest says, sounding more chipper than I’ve ever heard.
And then he presses a possessive palm to my lower back as if to make it clear, in case my sex hair and rumpled clothes aren’t an indication, that he just fucked me in the observation room. I want to crawl into a hole. No, I want to crawl into a bed and pull the covers up and not come out for a week. Not just any bed.Mybed. The bed I left in my apartment in Iowa.
Now that my mortification’s complete, the doors open with a ding to reveal the cavernous private elevator with its mirrored walls, gilt sconces, chandelier, and marble floor.
It looks like something out of the Palace of Versailles.
“Tell your uncle Giuseppe I send my regards,” Priest adds, sweeping me into the elevator.
“Thanks, boss. He’ll be happy to hear it.”
I half expect the guard to give Priest a salute, but he doesn’t. Just turns back to his station like the cold killing machine he’s designed to be.
The elevator doors close, and I move to the opposite side, keenly aware of Priest’s nearness and of the fact that he smells like mouthwatering cologne and sex and that his come is still inside me.
What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking. That’s the problem. I was caught up in the moment, allowing my body to rule over my brain.
Stupid, stupid Luna.
“Something wrong?” Priest asks quietly after he punches in a code he doesn’t allow me to see and the elevator jolts into seamless motion, taking us into the belly of this beast.
Yes. I just fucked the enemy.
I can’t tell him that, though.
“You may as well have made an announcement about what happened in the observation room,” I snap instead.
“All they had to do was take one look at you to know exactly what we’ve been doing for the last hour, which is exactly what everyone expects newlyweds to be doing.”
I cross my arms over my chest, feeling defensive because I gave in too easily. “The last hour? Try fifteen minutes, tops. And we’re not newlyweds. We’re soon-to-be-divorcees.”
He chuckles and rubs his stubbled jaw. Priest looks way too damn good in a white shirt and jeans.
“What’s so funny?” I demand when he doesn’t say anything.
“You.”
“You’re laughing at me after you…after we…” I wave my arm wildly in the general direction of the scene of my crime and then start looking for a weapon.
My feet are bare, so that won’t be an option.
“Looking for something to bludgeon me with, baby?” He grins, and it’s sexy and devastating, and I want to throw myself at him and kiss him, but I also want to smack his handsome face for making me surrender. “This is why I haven’t given you shoes yet, yeah?”
With a sound that’s embarrassingly animalistic, I launch myself at him. But it’s the rough equivalent of a kitten charging a bull. He catches me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me to hold me there.
I hate him and I want him and this is so fucking confusing.
I’m also emotional. About to cry, tears pricking my eyes. I blink furiously, trying to clear them before they fall.
“Don’t laugh at me,” I manage tightly.
“Hey.” He catches my chin in his thumb and forefinger, tilting my face up to his. “I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at how adorably stubborn you are. You can’t bear to accept what just happened between us, how bad you wanted it. You can’t even say it.” He pauses, his look shifting, going curious. “Fuck. You weren’t a virgin, were you?”
I think of my high-school boyfriend and the sweet, furtive fumbling in the back seat after prom. Then the college boyfriend who lasted until someone better came along.
