Page 18 of The Villain's Captive (The Villain's Duet 1)

“No,” she answered with no hesitation, and I closed my eyes.

“Good.” I touched her bottom lip with my thumb, almost able to taste her. “Because that would be pretty fucking stupid of you if you did.”

My pulse raced, and lust simmered. The thought of how easy it would be to pin her on that bed, tear off her cheap fucking clothes, and bury myself balls deep inside her fucked with my head. I wanted it. I wanted it to so fucking bad, the entire shitstorm that surrounded us seemed like goddamn smoke during a thunderstorm. In-fucking-significant.

But this wasn’t a line I could cross with her because she was just too goddamn important—the most consequential element of a hefty debt I vowed to pay.

I took a step back. “Go shower, Charlotte. Your new clothes will be here within the hour. And then I suggest you try to get some sleep.”

It was easy to see the relief on her beautiful face when I put more distance between us.

Her eyes locked with mine. “How am I supposed to sleep?”

“Sing yourself a motherfucking lullaby.”

There was no way I could stay so close to her for one second longer without doing something that would hurt her—something I’d enjoy way too fucking much.

I stormed out, and the door slammed shut. It felt like I had the fury of hell hammering against my skull. So many fucking voices, racing thoughts pulling me in every goddamn direction. There was no margin for error here, no fucking time for blurred lines and shit that had the potential to complicate something that could not, and would not, be anything more than a job—a debt fulfillment.

Lusting after Charlotte Moore had the potential to fuck up everything I had been planning for the last few years. One wrong move, and I’d be utterly, completely, unequivocally…fucked.

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