Monster in His Eyes (Monster in His Eyes, #1)

by J.M. Darhower

"I'll call you every day," she says. "Every hour."

"I don't want your money, Karissa. I have plenty of my own." "Then what do you want?" "You." He says the lone word so confidently that I just stare straight ahead, unable to process it. "Me?" "Let me take you to dinner," he says. "Then we'll call it even."

"I'll tell you what," he says. "In half an hour, I'm going to pull up at the entrance to the parking garage, right where I dropped you off. If you're there, I'll take you wherever you want to go. If you're not, I'll go on my way."

I'm so embarrassed I can feel my face heating. What's wrong with me, babbling to this man about freaking Ramen noodles? I want to slink away, disappear into the cool leather seat and never again resurface.

The check is over twelve hundred dollars. No fucking way. I gape at him as he pulls out a wad of cash, paying in strictly hundred dollar bills, not even seeming bothered by the cost. "That's nuts," I hiss. "I could eat for like a year off of that much money." "Three years if you just eat your noodles," he points out.

He's a child with a brand new toy, and I just hope he doesn't break me as soon as I'm out of the package.

Everything before this moment was child's play, but this man is the major league.

He fucks me like he means it, like he needs it, like being inside of me is more important than anything inside of him, and every cell in my body calls out to him, craving more of it.

I see Naz standing there, his dark hair damp, beads of water running down his bare chest. The sudden urge to lick them strikes me. Ugh, down, hormones.

He's wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, fresh out of the shower. I'm momentarily stunned speechless as I survey him, getting my first good look at him out of his suit. He's just as gorgeous now, but there's more to him, noticeable things, things I couldn't see last night.

Much to my amusement, his hair dries quickly, lying perfectly without him even needing to touch it. Lucky bastard.

"You look beautiful in it, though," he says. "I'm glad you wore it."

This man bulldozed his way into my world, razing everything I always thought, or felt, or believed, leaving me with wreckage to try to piece back together. It's like I stepped out into the sunlight for the first time, and he is driving me right back into the shadows.

I turn around, knowing damn well I haven't forgotten my phone this time, considering I hadn't even remembered to bring the damn thing. "Yeah?" "Dinner tonight?" he asks. I stare at him. "What?" "Dinner," he says. “Eight thirty good for you?"

Naz, on the other hand, looks at ease. There's nothing more intimidating than a man whose feathers aren't ruffled by anything.

I just stand by the door, wringing my hands together. I don't have much, but what I have is important to me. We had sex last night, and as nervous as I'd been to have him inside of me, it's nothing compared to this. This is him getting a glimpse of what's beneath my skin.

"Because if that's all it was to you, I'll go," he continues. "I'll walk out the door right now. I don't fuck women because they owe me... I do it because I want to, because I need to, because they need me. And I don't mean that in an underhanded I bought dinner so you get naked sort of way, bartering favors like this is Basic Instinct. I'm not paying to get repaid, to get you in my bed. But if that's all this feels like to you, some sort of twisted business arrangement you're obligated to proceed with, I'll leave."

He stares at me for a moment. "Why not you?" His response doesn't answer my question, but it quells some of my anxiety, like maybe he can't see the flaws I see. Maybe what I see in the mirror, the girl my mother raised in little houses, isolated and overprotected, isn't the same woman he's looking at. Maybe one of us isn't seeing me clearly here, and maybe it's him... Or maybe it's me.

"This," I say, holding up the square silver packet of seasoning. He takes it from me. "And why does it look like a condom?"

He's a drug, an addictive one, and I'm not sure it's a habit I can kick. All it took was one hit. One strong, euphoric hit and I was hooked.

His thumb brushes across my bottom lip, and he's quiet for a minute before whispering, "Only a fool would be bothered by being with you."

"What are you doing?" "What I shouldn't." "What's that?" "Thinking." I laugh lightly, wrapping the blanket tighter around me as I survey his face in the darkness. "What are you thinking?" "I'm thinking that I like you, and that's a problem for me."

"There's something about you... something I've sought for a very long time. Something I've always wanted. And now that I've found it, I don't know if I can let it go." "Then don't," I say. "You don't know what you're asking," he responds. "I'm not a man who just gives up in the middle of something. If I go any further, if I don't walk away now, I won't be able to."

"I'm telling you," he says, his voice strained. "I'm warning you. I'm not a good man, Karissa, and I never will be. So don't think you can fix me, or that I'll ever change, because I won't. I can't. You have to know, if this goes any further, if you ask me to stay, I'm not going to be able to let you walk away."

His eyes drift closed, a soft sigh escaping his parted lips, and I know then, as I feel his cock through the material of his pants, hardening against my palm, that I signed on the dotted line. I'm in.

I feel so empty. It's crazy. I know. I'm crazy. He's driving me insane. Naz steamrolled into my life and then strolled right back out in the middle of the night, offering me nothing more than a sweet goodbye kiss.

I don't just mean that because everyone's vacated the premises. I mean it in the 'I could go missing and I'm not sure anyone would notice' kind of way.

I answer tentatively. "Hello?" "You looked beautiful today."

There's a lot about men that I find attractive, but a man who actually listens is in an entirely different league.

"I haven't heard from you," I say. "Haven't seen you." "That's not from lack of remembering," he says. "I've been busy with work, but you've been on my mind. And you can see me any time you want, Karissa. Anytime. Just say the word and I'm yours." "Tonight?" I whisper. "How about right now?" he suggests. "I can be there in an hour."

I've never seen someone look so downright cocky before. Why is that so hot to me?

"Because of me?" I can feel my face flushing. "But I'm just… me." "You're special, Karissa. I mean that."

Happiness is being fucked so rough you can hardly breathe, can hardly speak, can do nothing but squeal like a pig as he nails you over and over, pushing inside of you so hard, so deep, that you can feel the man not only with your body, but also with your soul. Happiness is waking up the next morning, barely able to recall your own name, because the only one that mattered in hours was his, screamed so loud your throat is painfully raw, like the name had bled from your lips.

I fear for my life, every second of the trip making me wish I'd stayed behind. At least there I'm not racing toward a fiery death.

"What did I tell you that night in your room? I said there was no turning back. So don't start getting cold feet on me now. I'm yours, Karissa, anytime, day or night."

His eyes scan me, lingering on my breasts before trailing down my stomach, following the curve of my hips and the whole way down to my feet. A slight smirk touches his lips, just enough to flash a dimple. "Nice dress."

"I don't know how the hell you snagged that man, Kissimmee, but you keep him. You hear me? Any man that offers to buy you new shoes to go with your new dress needs to be kept. You don't let him go for anything."

Love means seeing the beauty in the ugly, the light in the dark, and accepting that even if the lights are off, and I can't see what's in front of me, there will be something there to guide my way. Love means turning yourself inside out, handing yourself over to somebody else, and trusting them… trusting them to touch you, to handle you, to bend you, but never, ever break what you give them.

"Enough," I say as I glance across the table. Her hair is tousled, but not in the intentional way. "You look like you've been fucked six ways to Sunday."

"I often can't," he says. "And if you're wondering, Darth Vader over there staggered in about an hour ago and went straight to sleep."

"If you could read my mind..." He pauses, laughing darkly. "You'd be trembling."

"I love you, too. Promise me you'll remember that." "I promise." "Good," he says. "Because I'm about to fuck you like I don't."

I'm shoveling it into my mouth when Naz speaks quietly. "I'm in love with you, Karissa."

freeze with the spoon halfway to my mouth and peer across the table at him. "I love you, too." "No, I don't just love you," he says. "I'm in love with you."

"When you love somebody, you want what's best for them… but when you're in love with them, you want them for yourself. And they're not always the same thing. Just because I want you, doesn't mean I'm the best thing for you… because I'm not. I know I'm not. It isn't easy to reconcile. Because I know I should let you go, should let you walk away from me right now, but I can't do it. I can't. I'm selfish, and I'm in love with you, and I want nothing more than to keep you for myself."

"I'm not sure about anything anymore… anything except for you, anyway. You're the only thing in my life that I'm sure about. I know I want you… need you. I know I love you. Nothing else really makes any sense anymore."

"Yes," he says. "Although, I have to say, I was surprised you only had one vibrator. That's at odds with the vixen you turn into when I get you naked."

The corner of his lip twitches. "You okay, jailbird?"

His presence always makes the bad seem not so bad, the good just so much better, the world around me so beautiful and brand new. He makes me feel special, and safe, like the universe could be crumbling but he'd keep the ground beneath my feet secure.

"I know why you left," I say, taking a step back. There are a few feet between us, but it suddenly feels way too close. "You left because you're a fucking coward."