The viper stares at me with her red lips parted and her mermaid eyes wide, her dark hair falling around her face and her lush tits straining for release from the deep V neckline of her dress as she clings to my shoulders.
The hem of her dress has ridden up, exposing her bare thighs.
Thighs I want to kiss, bite, and bury my face between.
Right here on this fucking carousel. Right now, I want to make this fiery, dangerous woman come with my mouth. I want to hear her moan my name and feel her pull my hair as I finger fuck her and lick her clit until she’s screaming.
Then I want to fuck her, deep and hard.
Heat rushes to my dick. It throbs, stiffening. I almost groan with need.
I knew I shouldn’t have come back to New York.
I should’ve stayed in Boston until the wedding, then moved Lili into my home and avoided her lethal, luscious aunt for the rest of my bloody life.
But it’s like my dick has become one of those divining rods, always pointing right at her hidden treasure. It’s obsessed with her.
After our first meeting, I left with a hard-on that kept returning despite repeated attempts to jerk it to satisfaction. I woke up in the middle of the night every night that next week with a dick so rock-hard and aching, I couldn’t go back to sleep unless I made myself come.
Thinking of the viper, of course. Imagining in carnal detail every single filthy thing I’d like to do to her.
The list is endless.
Those full, red lips I’d force my swollen cock past.
That long, dark hair I’d wrap around my wrist twice and use to pull back her head.
Those plush, soft tits I’d lick and fondle, sucking her nipples until they were deep pink and rigid in my mouth.
And that sweet, hot pussy I’d fuck in every goddamn position, over and over again.
I want it.
I want it all.
Except I convinced myself I didn’t. I convinced myself the burning lust I felt was all in my imagination. Especially after Declan’s warning. How could it have possibly been that obvious?
It couldn’t.
So, determined to prove to myself that I was totally in control, I threw myself into the shark tank once again.
I strolled into her kitchen, took one look at her standing at the stove glaring at me, and got so hard so fast, I was embarrassed for myself.
I came back today more determined than ever to keep it together, but she wrecked me with a single glance. She stood in the entryway burning me to ashes with her eyes, and I had to restrain myself from grabbing her and throwing her over the nearest chair so I could fuck her from behind in front of everyone.
In front of the lass who’s going to be my bloody goddamn wife!
I’m no stranger to sexual chemistry. I’ve felt desire before, many times. But this is something different.
This is the strike of the match that lit the raging forest fire.
This is dark, intense, and dangerous.
This is need, not want…and I don’t like it at all.
In fact, I fucking hate it.
Maybe even as much as Reyna hates me.
And I better find a way to handle it, because there’s too much on the line to screw up.
I can’t back out of the marriage to Lili. Not that I even want to—the lass is sweet as could be. She’ll make a wonderful wife. A wife I would never obsess over. Be distracted by. Be consumed by, which is the last fucking thing I want.
I don’t want to feel anything—that’s the whole bloody point! I wanted an arranged marriage so I’d never have to feel anything for a woman again.
The last woman I felt something for was kidnapped because of me.
She was shot because of me.
She wound up in Russia, impregnated by her Bratva assassin fucking kidnapper, all because I failed to keep her safe.
With my cursed luck with women, I know better than to ever let feelings get involved in my relationships again.
Yet here I am with my bloody idiotic divining-rod dick blasting at full speed in the direction of a woman they call the Black Widow.
A woman who’s like a mother to my soon-to-be bride.
A woman who hates me with a burning passion.
A woman who can never, ever be mine.
I yank my hands from her body and turn away, wondering what the fuck I ever did to make God hate me so much.
