Page 72 of Corrupted Deception

I’d just dropped my hand and turned toward the bedroom door when Cielo appeared at the top of the stairs. His gaze traveled from my head to my stiletto-clad toes and back up again, making my stupid body tingle.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked in a voice that, what it lacked in volume, it more than made up for in menace.

I feigned a careless shrug. “I’m done with research,” I told him. “I’m done with chasing down cartels, and I’ve definitely had enough of them chasing after me. There’s only one sure way to get my father back, and that’s what I’m doing.”

One simple flight, and I could have him back. No more thinking about the risks, the dangers. Only the payoff, the prize.

It was rash, and it was reckless. It was everything I’d spent ten years trying to ‘therapy’ out of my system.

I dug my fingernails into my palms, trying to find some sort of grounding, but even I had to acknowledge I’d flown that coop thirty minutes ago.

“Like hell you are,” he replied, striding further into the room. Five long steps, and he was right in front of me.

I crossed my arms over my chest. We were both aware of the way it pressed my breasts closer together and shoved them up like a smorgasbord, and the hungry look in his eyes set off sparks in my brain.

Just fuck him,they screamed.Where’s the harm?It’s smarter than rushing off to Venezuela, isn’t it?

It was.

It was the lesser of two impulsive evils by far.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins like wildfire as his scent wrapped around me and the muscled body beneath his navy blue shirt called to me.

I stood there, on the precipice of a second reckless decision in the past thirty minutes, my heart pounding like a drumbeat of chaos. The impulse was screaming at me, tempting me with the sweet allure of immediate satisfaction.

“Pause and reflect,”Dr. Steele’s voice whispered in my ear.“Impulsive actions lead to consequences you’ll regret.”

I tried to look away, to find five things I could see, four things I could touch, but Cielo was right in front of me. Hell, it felt like he was all around me.

“I have to go,” I said, but even I could hear the lack of conviction in my voice.

“One step at a time, one breath at a time,” Dr. Steele’s words reverberated in my head.

One god damned step, Char. Just take one step back.

Before I could step back—but let’s face it; I wasn’t going to take that step—Cielo tunneled his fingers through my wet hair, grabbing hold at the roots and twisting to force me to look up at him.

“I told you what would happen if you tried to leave. Is it that you want me to tie you up,tempesta?”

Before I could respond, he swept in, capturing my lips with that bruising fervor that was like heroine.

He tasted just like the last time, like peppermint and vanilla, and the heat of his body pressed against me had molten lava pooling low in my abdomen. And like before, I could taste it—sex and sweat and victory.

I sunk my teeth into his lip even as I pressed my body closer to his, and I grabbed hold of his hand in my hair, curling my fingernails into his flesh, rushing headlong toward the thin line that hovered between sex and violence.

He yanked his mouth away, just like I knew he would, but rather than test the waters this time, he spun me around, slamming me into my bedroom wall.

Instead of delving for my neck, he grabbed hold of my wrists and pinned them together below my tailbone, pressing my breasts hard against the wall while his eyes grazed over me. I could feel everywhere they touched like the faintest current along my skin. But the moment his grip on my wrists loosened just a little, I was ready.

In an explosive burst, I bent my knees and shoved back with everything I had, legs, hips, and shoulders. Rather than trying to break free, I used the momentum and his momentary surprise to shove his body around so that his back hit the wall with my back to him.

Then I spun to face him, to keep my opponent in my sights. And when my leg found its way right between his thighs, pressing against the hard length of his erection in warning, a thrill coursed through my veins, adding fuel to the fire.

I didn’t pause to see how he’d react, to see what he was planning next. I grabbed hold of his shirt and tugged hard, making the buttons fly loose and exposing jacked pecs and a six-pack that might have been the greatest thing I’d ever seen. His body was covered in fading bruises, and there were at least half a dozen old scars that said this man was no stranger to violence.

But even more than the ripped body or the bruises and scars that peppered it, what was drawing all my attention was the artwork across his chest and all the way down, disappearing into the waist of his pants. It was some sort of storm scene, portentous, dark clouds and a plethora of lightning bolts, beautiful in its sheer chaos, perhaps the most elaborate body art I’d ever seen—and I’d seen some detailed work.

The tats were sexy as hell, but wrong. Out of place. Because mafia men didn’t have tattoos.

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