Page 13 of Depraved
I grin down at her, whispering, “Like old times…”
I don’t miss her small grin as her fingers pull at each button to reveal more and more of my bare tattooed chest. Just like she did that night.
Despite the pain, I can’t help the filth that’s taking over my thoughts as I watch her eyes travel over my muscles like she wants to eat me up.
“Stop looking at me like that. You told me I only got one night,” I tease, seeing her bite her lip.My kind of girl—thinking dirty thoughts in the middle of bedlam.“Now, answer my question, beautiful.”
A sharp pain shoots through my arm, and I wince as she tugs the sleeve on my good arm to pull the shirt from my body. She gives me an apologetic look and much more gently removes it from around my back.
“Good girl,” I mouth, giving her a wink.
She stills, her eyes faltering, and I swear I can smell her excitement. Fuck I like that—her response to my approval.
Sarah gives her head a little shake. “Hold this.”
She puts my free hand on my shoulder, holding the shirt in place, so she can uncuff the side where she shot me. “It’s your own fault. You do realize that?” she accuses angrily, averting her eyes.
If she was looking at me, she’d see the amusement on my face. Balls of steel, this one.
People don’t speak to me this way.
Ever.
Not just because they respect me—it’s mostly because they fear me.
And that’s justified.
But this badass doesn’t seem to have the sense to feel fear. It’s what drew me in the most when we met. I liked listening to her mouth off then just as much as I’m enjoying it now.
Actually, more now, because I know she likes the punishments I’m itching to give her.
“You’re a brave little thing. I can’t tell if you’re fearless or careless,” I growl as the material brushes over the wound when she pulls it off me.
“Neither.” She smirks, and we lock eyes for a moment.
Folding my shirt long ways, she drags it under my arm, her hands brushing my skin, and wraps it around the wound, tying it hard to stop any bleeding.
“Easy,” I complain as she tightens it more.
Sarah’s eyes dart to mine. “Don’t be a baby.”
Fuck, there’s something about her eyes. I noticed it the night I danced with her at Luca’s wedding. There’s a whole lifetime that’s been lived behind those damn blues.
The corners of my mouth lift minutely against the dark expression that’s taken up residence on my face, and I lean my face closer to hers, watching her features freeze. “The circumstances are shit, but it’s nice to see you again.”
Sarah peeks through a forest of lashes and licks her lips. Damn, I want more of her.
“You didn’t have to get yourself shot to see me. It’s a little extreme, Dante,” she teases, fucking flirtatiously.
That mouth is going to get her in trouble.
My hand runs slowly up the middle of her chest, stopping only to feel her heart beating, and slides upward again until I find my favorite place—wrapped gently around her neck. Tilting her head back, I bring my lips close to hers.
She lets out a small warm raspy breath, peering up at me with hooded eyes.
My lips skim hers as I speak. “Baby, I would fuck you. Here and now, bleeding all over you, letting it mix with our sweat and cum.”
Damn, the way she’s staring at me, like she wants it too, has my chest rising and falling faster.
