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"We've been honest so far, Ms. Vitalio," he murmured. "I'll be honest now. I despise you but I want you. Fuck it, I do. And I want you out of my system."
Tristan Caine: Apparently, you're not out of my system, Ms. Vitalio.
"Don't you know not to run away from predators, sweetheart? We like the hunt."
"Unless you want me to lay you out right on that bloody car of yours and fuck you, stop moving."
"Doesn't matter. I get my mouth on you, and you'll never be the same."
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.
It was the life.
“Next time, I’m going to see how loud you can scream, Ms. Vitalio. I’m going to make you so sore you won’t know if it’s from the screaming or the fucking.”
“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.”
“Where is she?”
“Where the fuck is she?”
‘I get my mouth on you, you’ll never be the same.’
