Page 44 of Depraved (American Street Kings 1)

“Am I?” His nostrils flared, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he tipped his head to the side. “Did you not watch me? Think about me?” I let out a breath when his finger brushed across my lips. “Did you not wonder what it would be like to be with me? To ride on the back of my motorcycle with your arms wrapped tightly around me?”

I swallowed hard.

His gaze followed the movement of his fingers. “Can you tell me you never once thought about me…in your bedroom,” he leaned closer, his warm breath dancing across the skin of my neck, “in your bed…fucking you?”

“Jesus, Granite,” I breathed. My body felt drained of all its strength. Suddenly, there was nothing but a throbbing ache between my legs, something I had no business feeling.

Abruptly, his fingers gripped my jaw, digging into my flesh. “Tell me you never once looked at me from that motherfucking window, your panties soaked with the thought of me touching you.”

“Stop.”

He pressed harder, puckering up my lips as his grip tightened. “Tell me you never touched yourself, made yourself come thinking about me fucking you raw.”

I clenched my teeth, heart racing and palms sweating. “You’re disgusting, you know that?”

A smirk crept up at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, that’s right. That pussy of yours is still untouched. It’s still all tight and intact.”

My eyes widened. “How the hell do you—”

“I told you, there’s nothing about you I don’t know.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over my lips, and I shivered. “I’ve always been there hiding in the shadows, making sure no man touches what’s mine. And that’s exactly what you are. Mine.” He brought his lips closer to mine. “Ever wonder why your jock boyfriend ended up with a broken leg, never returning to claim what you were so willing to give him? Or why no other guy attempted to come near you? To touch you?”

Jesus Christ. “It was you?”

“You thought it was daddy, didn’t you?”

“You crazy son of a bitch.”

“I won’t argue that.”

“You’re fucking insane.”

He shrugged. “I won’t argue that either.”

“You had no fucking right to interfere with my life. No fucking right!” With every ounce of strength, I tried to push him away from me, but he didn’t even move an inch.

His hand moved from my jaw to the back of my neck. “You see, Alyx, you were mine the moment our eyes met for the first time, you staring down at me from your window. You know it. I know it. And we’ve known it for a very long time.”

“You’re delusional,” I bit out, my stomach swirling with equal parts desire and fear.

With his hand gripping my neck, I became hyperaware of his touch. His smell. His heat. His presence. Being so close demanded all my senses to tune into him—and only him. The world around us disappeared, and in that moment, he was everything. Nothing else existed.

His body was inches from mine, the air around us suddenly laden with what felt like raw sexual tension, strong enough to make me succumb. It penetrated every bone in my body. The desire. The need. The fear of being consumed by him. I had never felt so conflicted in my life. My fear of him was real; his actions made sure of that. But the desire I had for him all this time felt a hundred times stronger, as if the fear intensified it, making it impossible to ignore.

His fingers weaved through my hair right before clutching tight, pulling my head back and lifting my chin toward him, earning a gasp from my lips.

“You see, Alyx, I’ve owned you long before I took you, and that is why you dancing for my brother fucking matters.”

Between him and the wall, I felt small and insignificant, like he could crush me with his fucking boot if he wanted to. As his face came within inches of mine, I smelled his familiar scent. Sandalwood—an earthy scent with a hint of soap. It was the smell of my undoing.

Even though my heart was about to break out of my chest, I couldn’t look away. It was impossible for me to not look at him, to not think of all those nights I used to watch him getting off his bike, roughing his hands through his untamed curls, demanding all my attention without even trying. Maybe he was right. Maybe I did silently beg for him to take me this way. Maybe there was a part of me that wanted him to be this cruel, dangerous man who didn’t think twice without taking what was his. His life was such a huge contradiction to mine, and maybe I craved it. With all the perfection and discipline in my life, maybe I craved the chaos of his. But that didn’t mean I would stop fighting, even if it was only for my own sanity. To prove to myself that I wasn’t as depraved as he was.

I reached to the back of my neck, trying to pull his fingers from my hair. I dug my nails so deep into his flesh, I was sure I drew blood. But he didn’t even flinch.

“Let go of me.”

The smirk on his face was a giant “no.”

“I said let go of me.”

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