Page 72 of King of Greed

“Fuck,” I gasped. My submission was an invitation I knew I shouldn’t give. I was exposed and he was nearly fully clothed. Every pretense was ripped away when it was my skin against his. There was no hiding the way I cried out for him or the way he pushed my body higher.

My moans and cries mingled with his grunts as he fucked my brains out on the sofa. I couldn’t see, hear, or think clearly. It was just us, our bodies sweaty and moving in a rough, timeless rhythm.

“I could die in this pussy, Ále. I could die right now, knowing that you are mine.” His hand wrapped lightly around my throat, pinning me to the leather while he moved us into ecstasy.

I felt him swell in me as he picked up the pace. My own release was building as nerves shot down my spine. I’d ruined the couch, and my palms were slick with sweat as he held me in place.

His hips pumped into me like he was trying to grind some unknown truth into my body. When he put his forehead on mine, I saw the shadows that hid on his face. I saw the words I didn’t want to believe swimming in his eyes.

Safety and fear coiled deep in my gut.

His wedding ring against my waist felt heavy in the purgatory I was happy to enter if it meant this stolen moment.

One more thrust and I fell apart, fluttering like confetti against the leather, bits and pieces of me embedding themselves in his skin. Warmth filled me as he came soon after with a shudder and a groan.

Silence settled, hot and languid. Our breaths slowed as our sex-fueled haze cleared.

I just had sex with my ex-husband.The clarity bit at me, but I wasn’t ready to think about what it meant. I’d wanted him, and I’d let him have me.

Regret pushed at me before I shoved it away.

Dom stood up and straightened his clothes. He exuded elegance and power, but I saw the man I fell in love with. The man who worked three jobs but would still eat me out under the table while we studied. The man who made promises and kept them until he didn’t anymore.

Our gazes consumed each other, communicating what words couldn’t.

I’d just roused myself off the coach and fixed my clothes when a third voice rang through the room.

“Shit.”

Our heads jerked up toward the third floor, where Kai and Isabella had emerged from…was that a secret room behind the bookshelves?

We stared at each other, all four of us rumpled and tousled in a way that could only indicate one type of activity.

“Well,” Kai said, his posh British accent sounding a tad too dignified for the situation. “This is awkward.”

CHAPTER 32

Dominic

MY POST-SEX HIGH LASTED PRECISELY AN HOUR ANDeight minutes. After our awkward run-in with Kai and Isabella in the library, a red-faced Alessandra left with the couple (I assumed she and Isabella had a lot to catch up on), and I went home with my blood buzzing.

I knew better than to assume sex meant anything more than a temporary melding of desires, but it was a modicum of progress in our relationship, and that was all I could ask for at the moment.

The penthouse greeted me with silence when I returned. I’d given the staff the week off for Christmas, and my footsteps echoed against the marble floors as I walked through the foyer to the living room. I should turn—

Something moved in the darkness.

A cold dagger of fear severed the last tendrils of my warm, Alessandra-induced haze, and I came to an abrupt halt.

A second later, a lamp flicked on, throwing relief over midnight hair and cool green eyes.

“Late night,” my brother drawled. “Where’ve you been?”

My fear crisped, burning into anger. “How the fuck did you get in?”

Roman lounged on the couch like an emperor lounging on his throne. A silver dagger glinted against his all-black outfit, and he tossed it absentmindedly from hand to hand while surveying me with amusement.

“Your security system is good,” he said. “I’m better.”

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