Page 72 of Dukes of Peril

Either way, I can’t hold it in anymore.

“I’m fucking terrible,” I burst, fisting my jacket as I lift it off my lap. I point to the obscene bulge hiding beneath. “Would a good boyfriend get a fucking boner at a funeral?”

Her eyes drop to my crotch, narrowing. “Well… I’ve read that emotional stimuli can–”

I don’t let her finish. “I lied to you, Lavinia.”

A little of the reclaimed brightness fades in her eyes. “About what?”

I open my mouth, but the words are lodged in my throat. It’s a struggle to speak, not for any physical reason, although I’d blame it on that if I could. No, this is something I’ve held onto for so long that saying it out loud—acknowledging it—admitting it, feels like pushing a boulder up a mountain.

Clutching the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white, I train my eyes ahead, too cowardly to look her in the eye. “I talk about being in control all the time, feeding you that bullshit about not being able to stop myself once it gets past a certain point.” In my periphery, I can see her watching, her gaze like a painful point of heat on my face. “But it’s all a lie. The truth–the real truth I haven’t had the guts to face–is that I like how it feels to lose control. To punch someone in the face. To win. To claim.” I finally turn, finding the courage to meet her confused stare. “I could have stopped that night, Lavinia. I just didn’t want to.”

It sounds bad when I’ve spoken the words, somehow worse than the revelation felt in my head, and that’s saying a lot. It’s the reason I left that night, turning my back on her, Nick, Remy, and DKS. Running away. I couldn’t face the truth of it, which is that I had somethingso fucking goodand I ruined it with this creeping, writhing selfishness inside of me.

A shudder runs through her, and I stiffen, preparing myself for the tears. The screams. The slap. The kick. I’d deserve it.

Instead, she laughs.

It’s a quiet, mirthless sound, her mouth twisting into a wry purse. “Yeah, Big Bear. I know.”

“You… know.” I repeat.

She shrugs. “Did I ever for one second buy that you have some uncontrollable beast inside of you?” She gives me an obvious look. “Not even remotely. I guess I was just waiting for you to figure it out yourself.”

Lamely, I say, “Oh.”

That’s the response to my big confession? The open admission to my greatest flaw?She knows?

Quieter, she adds, “I can see it in your face, Sy. I can feel it on your skin when you give in, sparking like electricity. You do have control, but you love losing it. Being selfish, letting go, taking something for yourself… it’s a rush.” Her eyes drop to her lap. “It’s how you escape your box.”

It’s probably the most scared I’ve ever felt, realizing Lavinia Lucia knows more about me than I do myself. “Well, shit.” I run my hand through my hair. “Guess that wasn’t such a revelation then.”

Now I feel like both an assholeandan idiot.

“But it’s a revelation to you,” she says, reaching out to curl her palm over my strained knuckles. “I don’t need an apology, Sy. Trust isn’t built on expensive dinners and pretty words. Those aren’t what I’ve been waiting for. All I’ve needed isthis.”

I swallow thickly, hypnotized by her flowery scent. “Really?”

She looks at where her thumb is stroking over my fingers. “It’s easy to blame your weaknesses on something you think is unchangeable. A sickness. A biological flaw in how your brain is wired. But Sy, you’re not Remy. There’s nothing wrong with you that can’t be changed.”

The words strike a chord that guts me, because she’s more right than she knows. Watching Remy these past two weeks has made it painfully obvious that it wouldn’t matter anyway. Even with his disorder, he still fights, and anyone who fights still has a chance of winning.

I have no excuse.

“And you believe I have?” I ask, heart thudding hard. “Changed?”

She doesn’t answer.

Not with words.

Suddenly, she’s climbing over the gearshift, my hands flying up as she straddles my lap.

“What are you–?” My words are cut off with her kiss, lips eager and demanding against mine.

My dick is hard—it has been since she kissed me. With one hand I push her hair back over her shoulder, thumb stroking the column of her neck, and with the other I extend the seat, making room for the two of us. Her hips rock forward, and I groan. We’re so close, noses an inch apart, and I see the want in her eyes. Theneed. But…

“Lav.”

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