Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles, #2)

by Cora Reilly

My eyes snapped open, my vision blurry with tears. And through the fog, two intense gray eyes slowly came into focus, and then they were all I saw, all I could see, all that mattered. So calm. Clinical. Cold. Just what I needed. It was a cool flood against this terror-filled inferno. Blissfully emotionless. I stared into his eyes, stared for a long time, and he let me, until I brought the first breath of oxygen into my lungs. I could breathe again, and the face of my husband came into focus, his narrowed eyes all too knowing.

They’d called him a genius, as twisted and dangerous as he was intelligent. And I realized he was all that and more. Monstrous.

“Beautiful,” she whispered. “It is,” I agreed, looking directly at her.

Her taste was like a fucking catalyst of my own lust.

I angled my hips the same way, and Kiara’s lids fluttered, but she didn’t close her eyes. It was as if she needed to see me, so I returned her gaze. Her lips parted for a soft moan. It was a perfect sound, more perfect than any melody Kiara had ever created on her piano and she had created some of the most beautiful melodies I’d ever heard.

I had never felt like this, like I needed to consume Kiara completely. Like she was the only thing that could satisfy a hunger unlike anything I’d ever felt.