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She had the words, on the tip of her tongue, ready to tumble out. She had that need, so, so deep inside her, to know someone, to have a friend, to share her life and stories with a person. But actions like that could have consequences,
She cried because she had no one to give her a shoulder and hold her as she cried because she had to wrap her arms around herself and hold herself together,
Maybe find someone who made her heart race and her blood heat. Someone who understood her in her silence and protected her because he wished to. Someone who challenged her on every level and treated her as an equal.
"We've never lied to each other, Ms. Vitalio. Let's not start now,"
Tristan Caine terrified her, but it wasn't because of the death he was bringing her slowly, the death he would bring her one day, the death he raised in her. No. It was the life.
Knowledge was power, but in the wrong hands, it was a weapon.
She didn’t even know who she was any more in so many ways. Had she lost the fire somewhere along the way?
No, she hadn’t lost the fire. It just lay dormant inside her most days.
This man needed a leash for that dirty, explicit mouth.
“You give yourself a little too much credit.” “Say that when I can’t still smell you on my fingers.”
Always the hunter, never the hunted. He could not be hunted. He could not be tamed. He could not be destroyed. That kind of unbreakable aura was so, so tempting to her.
She didn’t want to die, not when she’d started living for the first time in her life, because of the very man holding the gun at her chest.
“This body belongs to me, Ms. Vitalio,” he murmured in a low voice, the whiskey and sin combining to make her head tip back over his broad shoulder as her stomach clenched. “This body is mine,” she retorted, unable to recognize her own voice dripping in sex. He continued, like she hadn’t spoken, cupping her ass. “I’m a territorial man. And this has been mine since the moment you locked that bathroom door.” “That was one time,” she informed him, even as she knew there was no stopping them now. “Then let’s make it a second, shall we?”
God, she was tired of thinking, of trying to decode every damn thing.
The moment she’d entered that casino and seen him, something in her had relaxed. The moment she’d left her father and come to him, something in her had collapsed. The moment she’d let him see her naked, something in her had snapped. He’d seen her vulnerable multiple times and nuzzled her jugular instead of ripping it out. He’d seen her feisty so many times and had fed her fire instead of dousing it. He’d seen her as her and despite everything, he’d not exploited that, like her own father had done so many times.
That fact warmed something inside Morana that someone had dropped whatever they’d been doing to come for her.
He’d lived for her life. He’d held on to his life for hers. And while her heart bled for him, while she understood him, was that what she deserved? Was it right for her to stay with a man who’d vowed to collect his debt one day? Could she live with a sword like that hanging over her head? She couldn’t.
And she was going to fight him, fight for him, like he’d fought for her. She was going to gamble. She was going to throw herself off the cliff and hope he would catch her.
