“What do you mean?” I suddenly wished I could see his face.
“Oh well, my cock just screamed, ‘girl, girl, girl,’ but my heart said, ‘we’re already spoken for,’ and my head said, ‘don’t be an idiot.’ So, I’d like to think I came out of it with a moral compass that didn’t completely point down and stay there, if you get my meaning.” His accent somehow seemed lighter, or maybe it was the story—how easy he told it.
“Nice double entendre there.” I smiled at his easy tone, and then the smile fell away as Breaker’s face lit up in my head like a Christmas tree. He’d been such a player.
I was always afraid to ask how many girls he slept with at Eagle Elite. But this wasn’t Breaker, was it?
“So, Mr. Moral Compass…” I leaned in until I could feel his face with my hands. “How many girls did you end up sleeping with?”
“Actual sex?” He was quiet for a few seconds. “That’s a trick question. You see, before college, there were quite a few, and then something happened… and after that, there was only one, and I told myself that they didn’t count anymore, only her.”
My heart squeezed in my chest. “What happened to her?”
“She got married to a total tool.”
I burst out laughing. “So, I’m basically her?”
“Basically.” His mouth found mine.
And for some reason, it felt right.
I let him kiss me.
Seduce me.
I let him put his hands on my hips, and then I let him pull my shirt over my head as his palms cupped my breasts.
His kisses moved down my neck until he stopped at one breast, took the nipple between his teeth, and sucked, sending a shot of pleasure all the way down my legs.
“Do you think—” I licked my dry lips as he continued sucking on my breasts, distracting me from my own breathing. “Do you think she’s happy?”
“Without me? Highly doubtful, princess, highly doubtful.”
“Arrogant.”
“Reason to be.” He chuckled. “Shall I prove it to you again why I’m arrogant, or can you even take it?”
“I can take whatever you have, Valerian.”
A shiver rippled through him, so slight I might have imagined it, then he released a long sigh. “Say it again,” he whispered, his head resting between my breasts as I started massaging his scalp, tugging at his hair.
“Say what again?”
“My name.” He sounded like he was in pain, so I brought his head up, cupped either side of his face, and spoke his name across his lips. “Valerian.”
I barely got the name out when he slammed his mouth against mine like I’d just validated him in some way.
His kiss was destructive to what remaining sanity I had left. His lips were almost too hot, his tongue seducing mine in a cadence that reminded me of sex, of him, of him between my thighs.
I moaned in his mouth.
His hands moved to my ass, and then he was tugging my silk shorts down to my ankles again, and I was helping him.
Because for the first time since Breaker’s death, I didn’t feel like I was dying inside. I felt like Valerian was giving me something.
I had no idea what.
But it felt good.
For a few brief moments, the numbness and rage subsided—all I had was pleasure, his, mine, and as selfish as it was to just take—I did exactly that. I did what Valerian had done a year ago.
He offered.
And I took.
And I felt zero guilt as I blindly reached for his pants. He was wearing dress slacks again—probably black. He always dressed so perfectly, so professionally, that it was maddening.
I flicked open the button and then needed two hands as I slid down the zipper and gripped his length in one hand. He was rock hard, pulsing in my palm.
“Fuck.” The word exploded from him as he pulled his mouth away from mine. “I can’t decide if I’m terrified you’re going to pull a knife on me again or actually do what I’ve been dreaming of for weeks.”
“Weeks?” I deadpanned.
“Weeks.” He confirmed. “Trust me when I say in my mind it’s been weeks since I’ve had this touch, weeks since I’ve smelled this skin, years since I’ve felt this. Damn, you drive me insane.”
There was something very powerful about holding him prisoner, about the way his body responded.
I wanted a moment.
Just one moment of pure bliss with no sadness.
He hovered over me while I kicked down his pants, and then he was taking off his shirt. I raked my nails down his chest feeling a massive tattoo there.
“What am I touching?” I asked as he jerked me against him, his cock between my thighs so close my body wept.
“A tattoo,” he finally said. “My lie.”
“Your lie,” I repeated. “Will your lie ruin me?”
“Without a doubt.” He was out of breath. “It’s why I need you now.”
“Ask.”
I couldn’t see him, but I could almost imagine his stupefied look as he stared down at me.
“Ask me for it.”
“You.” His voice shook. “Please, Violet, can I have you? Don’t promise me forever, just promise me now, and I swear I’ll give you everything I have right now. It’s your turn to take, Violet, so take.”
I gripped him and led him to where I wanted him most. And as he slid home, I shut down all thoughts of death and only focused on his slow thrust inside my body, followed by another and then stillness as he circled his hips, hitting me exactly where I needed him.
A small cry slipped out as a tear trailed down my cheek.
Not Breaker, remember it’s not Breaker.
“Violet…” He growled my name, his mouth on mine, our breathing in sync as we moved together. “Mine.”
He slid a hand between us, I cried out in pure pleasure as he deepened his thrusts, and then I was flying.
I was in heaven.
I was with Breaker.
My eyes flashed open, but all I saw was black because of the damn blindfold. I went completely still as he rolled over and lay down next to me.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Old enough.” His answer.
“The girl… what was her name?”
“So, I don’t get to catch my breath? All right,” he said, more to himself. “And I can’t remember.”
“Are you a liar?”
“Yes.”
I rolled my eyes, and then I reached for him again, my hands running over his face, digging into his hair. It wasn’t him, but for a minute, I just—my soul recognized something.
My heart was screaming in my chest, beating against my body.
My pulse was erratic, I could feel my sanity slipping again.
“Did you have anything to do with his death?” I asked a second time like I had the night before.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Violet.” He sighed and pulled away from me. “Until tomorrow.”
“Until tomorrow,” I said back.
The minute the door clicked shut, I pulled off my blindfold and searched the room, not certain what it was I sought. My sanity maybe, but something was off, right? Something wasn’t right, I could have sworn in those few moments, I could have sworn he was here with me.
I’d felt him.
Tears filled my eyes. I had fucking felt him!
Sleep didn’t come, and I knew it would be a long time before it did as I stared at the picture on my cell phone.
Green eyes.
Reddish-brown hair with shots of gold.
Perfect smile.
Strong jaw.
Something wasn’t right, but it wasn’t wrong either. Was I just in another stage of grief, imagining him when he was gone?
I was literally going to attend his funeral in a few days.
With a last shake of my head, I tossed my phone away, then thought again, grabbed it, and sent a text.
Violet: I will miss you forever. I love yo
u.
Nothing happened.
I hated that I had gotten my hopes up.
I clutched the cell to my chest and fell asleep, my dreams filled with visions of Breaker’s taunting smile as he twirled my hair between his fingers.
Chapter Twenty
I should have said something, but the deeper I fell, the more I resolved, I would have her before my descent into hell. —Valerian Petrov
Valerian
I’d slept with her.
My body was sated.
My heart and soul were disappointed; in me, in my tactics, in my seduction. Who the hell had I become?
He’d said it would be hard.
But the deeper in I got, the worse I became until it was the parts of me I hated most that seemed to be ruling all logic.
Two more nights.
The funeral was tomorrow.
I would be there with her.
I would hold her hand.
If she let me.
“Fuck.” I kicked the barstool over and grabbed the decanter of whiskey and the two glasses.
I’d spent the entire day both dreading and looking forward to tonight in a way that had me distracted at the office to the point of everyone asking who pissed me off and who died.
Apparently, owning several shipping companies and being the boss to over a thousand employees all of a sudden wasn’t what was getting to me—it was a girl, one simple woman, one complicated woman. One woman who I had given up everything for.
One who would not keep me once she saw me.
I grabbed the bar stool, bent it over my knees, and cracked the wood into kindling. You’d think I’d feel better.
I didn’t.
“Sir?” Sancto hurried around the corner. “Everything all right?”
“Great,” I huffed, tossing the wood pieces to the floor. “Sorry about the broken barstool.”
“Er, it put up a good fight,” he teased, then grabbed what was now firewood and started piling it up on the table. “So, how is our princess this evening?”
Beautiful.
Mine.
His.
Confused.
Sad.
“She’s… it’s complicated,” I finally said.
“Well, then uncomplicate it.” He made it seem so easy when it was anything but that.
“Good idea,” I said mockingly. “I’ll just head over to Chicago real quick, admit everything, get shot in the head, and be right back.”
He stared me down with a smirk. “Don’t be dramatic, you have a few on your side. You’d be fine.”
“A few against Chase Abandonato? Do you even know who you’re talking about? His rage is legendary.”
“He’s just a man.” Sancto gave me a serious look. “And so are you.”
“Yeah.” Just a man who would do anything for his daughter. Just a man who you didn’t double-cross. Just a man who would rip me apart with his bare hands.
The clock struck ten.
Night three was ahead of us.
I took the stairs two at a time until I finally reached the top and the master bedroom. I had my mask in place just in case.
After knocking twice, I let myself in and nearly dropped the crystal glasses.
She was naked.
One hundred percent naked.
In the middle of the bed.
“Am I hallucinating?” I gasped.
She turned her blindfolded head toward me. “Do I have clothes on?”
“Hell no.”
“Then you’re not hallucinating. Congratulations, I’m naked.”
“Thank God.” I rushed over to her, hands shaking, firewood forgotten.
And Chase Abandonato a distant memory.
She sat up and looked in my general direction. “One question before you touch me.”
Shit.
Damn it!
Shit.
“What?” My body trembled.
I burned for her in a way that was otherworldly.
“Did you have anything to do with his death? Answer me even if I hate the answer, and then you can have this.”
Manipulation. I should have known. I was the king of it, wasn’t I?
I said nothing and then, “Even if you hate the answer, Violet? Even then?” I shook my head. It was time, wasn’t it? Maybe that’s why I’d been anxious all day. I’d known I was on borrowed time. I’d known the minute she gave herself to me.
It wasn’t free.
I had thought—hoped I could buy the days from her.
I’d just wanted… more than what I had been given.
But I would always want more, wouldn’t I?
Two more nights would never be enough.
I pulled the mask from my face and tossed it on the floor. It mocked me from where it lay, staring with vacant eyes.
It was over.
“Yes.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Because I’m the one who killed him.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Drown me, take me, torture me, steal me, use me, words etched on my soul, would that she could make me whole. —Valerian Petrov
Violet
I had the blindfold on.
I was naked.
But I was in control.
That was what I kept telling myself as my body buzzed with the awareness that he saw everything, that he was drinking his fill, that he wanted.
I had no idea where I got the nerve to even do this, but I was tired of his games, tired of the lies, and tired of not sleeping, wondering what could be so horrible that I would hate him for the rest of my life.
And my answer was always the same.
What could possibly gain my hatred so much?
The death of the man I loved.
And those hands, the hands that had loved me last night, seduced me, made promises—those hands were the ones that did it.
“Because I’m the one who killed him.” The words felt like a bomb as my entire body tensed, ready to fight, ready to avenge the death of the man who promised to never let me go.
And in that same breath, did exactly that.
“Does that mean…” I whispered, every muscle on alert, every synapse ready to snap me into action to avenge him, to kill this man, my husband. “…that I get to avenge him?”
“Killing me won’t bring him back, we’ve been over this,” he said. “But one thing that does kill me over and over again is how beautiful you are, and how badly I want to touch you, how desperately I want one more night—no, not one more, a dozen more, a hundred, knowing that you’ll deny me that one thing because you know how desperately I want it.”
My next breath stalled momentarily. His words affected me in ways I wasn’t prepared for. He made me feel bold, this killer in front of me, with his lies and his wicked mouth.
My body was at war with my heart because even now, I was yearning for him in a way that was sick and twisted.
“You can’t have me,” I lied.
“You promised two more nights. You took an oath, did you not?” He was closer now, though I hadn’t heard him moving. “Or are you too innocent to imagine what it would feel like to have the hands of a killer mar your perfect skin?”
It triggered me.
I hated being called innocent.
It reminded me of being powerless.
Being weak.
I sat up and stared in his general direction, my vision completely black, and then I spread my legs over the bed and lifted my chin. “A promise is a promise even with a killer like you.”
“A killer like me,” he rasped. “Funny, I imagine you prefer the monster even though you want to deny it. He wasn’t like me, you know. He wasn’t like this. He was hiding from who he was.” His hands gripped my thighs, keeping my legs apart, and then one hand gripped my chin painfully, forcing me to look up at him even though I couldn’t see anything. “He would never have done this.”
I was ready to ask what, and then he picked me up and flipped me over onto my stomach. My breasts rubbed against the sheets, and my nipple
s hardened to taut peaks. I let out a moan at the sound of clothes rustling, and then a rough palm was grazing my ass.
“Innocent.” His hand descended, slapping my sensitive skin so hard my eyes watered. “Little.” His hand hit again. “Violet.” Another slap sent my body arching off the bed. “Petrov.”
The final slap had me ready to commit murder, to turn around and kick him in the face, then pull him close and beg him for more.
“Pleasure and pain,” he said in a low voice. “I told you I would give you both. They go hand in hand, something you would know about me, Violet. I will give you everything you need, and that includes the pain that you don’t even realize your body begs for, so the numbness goes away, so the fight returns.” He rubbed his hand where he’d hit, and then he was gripping my thighs, pulling me back.
With one violent thrust, he was inside me.
I cried out with pleasure, hating myself for loving what he was doing, hating him for the blood on his hands, mourning Breaker in a way I’d never understood I needed.
“I’ll never be able to quit you.” He swore violently and pumped into me, both hands holding tightly to my hips and keeping me in place. It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to go anywhere. The pressure building inside was making me weak. If he hadn’t been gripping me, I would have sagged to the mattress. Heat surged through me, radiating from the point where we connected and washed over my face and neck, reaching to my fingers and toes.
I clung to the sheets as my back arched. I saw him then, Breaker, I saw his smile, his protective stance, and then he was gone.
He was gone.
Gone.
I cried out.
And then I was in Valerian’s arms as I clung to him, to the only real thing right in front of me.
“No matter what happens right now,” Valerian whispered, his breath hot on my ear. “Remember, he’s gone, and he’s not coming back.”
“You think I don’t know that?” My lower lip trembled, but I would not cry, not now, not naked in the arms of my husband, my enemy, his killer.
Gently, Valerian set me down on the bed and then pulled a soft blanket over my naked body.
What was he doing?
“You promised me one more night, Violet.” His accent had somehow… faded.
My heart pounded in my chest.
“And…” He sighed. “…I know how you hate it when your makeup gets ruined, so don’t cry anymore, I don’t think I can bear it.”
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