by Selina Marie
Leaning down so his lips touch the shell of my ear, he opens his mouth to speak, and I feel his breath hot on my skin.
“Thanks for breakfast, sweetheart.” Lukas smirks before kissing the burning skin of my neck his teeth had been latched on to. Then he is gone.
I can’t deny the crazy hot chemistry between Lukas and me. It’s the kind of chemistry where I’m not sure if he wants me or despises me. My hormones and emotions I know nothing about, are shooting through my body in different directions like fireworks setting off my anxiety. Part of me feels like a fool, the other part is desperate for him to feel what I’m feeling, even if I don’t quite know what that is.
I’ve only ever had my own hands on my body like that, and my God, it is so much better when it is someone else. But something deep inside me tells me it wouldn’t be like that with just anyone else, only him. Or maybe I am just losing my sanity—that being much more likely.
Unlatching my hands that are still clutched tightly around the railing on the balcony, I dash to the shower, in need of a cold one. The water cleanses me of my dirty thoughts—well most of them that is. I won’t lie and pretend that I don’t fantasize about him coming in here with me and pressing his hot and hard body against mine. The water pressure is so perfect I can easily have a second orgasm from that alone.
Closing my eyes as the water cascades over my skin, the coolness bringing with it clarity, almost as if this morning had been a dream and I am only just breaking through the haze and back into reality.
What am I actually doing here? I seriously need to figure my shit out before this goes any further. I can already taste how toxic we are, so why does every part of me want to stay and find out how deadly we could be? I know he’s possessive, maybe even dangerous, but danger feels like home.
I think my mind wants to justify this fucked up fairy-tale because deep, deep down I know this won't end well for my heart. I don’t catch feelings, and I’m going to try my damnedest to keep it that way.
Anyone from the outside will take one look at this and think Stockholm syndrome much? But it isn’t like he is forcing me to stay here. Really, I’m doing this to myself, which means that I am in control. That thought satiates the control freak inside of me, even if I know that it isn’t entirely true.
I’m not that girl—the girl who bends at the will of any man, no matter if he literally embodies what I imagine a fallen angel to look like. All dark hair, fair skin, piercing eyes and a body to die for.
Even though the fog in my head is starting to clear and logical Emilia is slowly creeping back into my conscience, I still have this niggling feeling inside of me, radiating from my gut that this is something stronger, something that is fated.
After my shower, I dry myself off and dress into a pair of black skinny jeans and a baby blue long sleeve top I found in the walk-in closet that cuddles my little curves nicely. I leave my hair wet after brushing it, my face makeup free.
Making my way to the door, I stop short when I see a fancy silver tray with a plate of pancakes, bacon and maple syrup, strawberries and blueberries in a bowl with mango juice in a crystal tumbler. The breakfast of dreams doesn’t last five minutes when my stomach growls violently at me, reminding me how hungry I am. I don’t know who brought it to me, but I get the feeling it was not Lukas. Maybe there is a phantom maid because I have not seen or heard another soul in this place the entire time I’ve been here. It is eerily quiet, and such a massive place for one man (and a potential phantom maid).
I hear a sound downstairs and it sounds like a coffee machine. My feet move without realizing just how quickly, almost making me fall ass over face down the stairs. I catch the banister in time before I make an embarrassing, grand entrance. My heart pounds from the adrenaline of almost tumbling down the stairs as I step closer to the sound and into the kitchen. Broad shoulders and muscles that twitch under his skin with each movement, stretch tightly over his back capturing my attention. Drifting lower my eyes shift to the white towel that hangs low on his hips and I start wondering what he looks like underneath it. Fucking hormones.
“Are you going to come in here or just keep staring at my ass?” Lukas catches me with his back still facing me, still making his coffee. How did he...? Maybe I’m not as stealthy as I thought I was.
I figure this is as good a time as any to speak, but words fail me because my mouth dries up, all the moisture going somewhere south. Screw this man and his ability to look fucking edible this early in the morning. I need words.
“Thirsty?” Lukas says, his voice dripping with innuendo and veiled humor. I feel the heat spread across my face as I fucking blush. Blush. He turns, coffee in hand, all rock-hard pecs and abs which match his expression accurately while he watches me. Distaste strong in his eyes again.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I lie. I am dying for caffeine but don’t want to want anything from him, which is stupid I know. “I’ll grab something on my way out,” I tell him, about to turn and leave.
“Way out where?” Lukas frowns.
“I go to Penderal Bay Community College, so… I gotta go.” I fiddle with the hem of my top, feeling uncomfortable with the small talk, like it is unnatural for us.
“You know, you don’t have to be embarrassed about what happened.” He bites his lip and takes a step closer to me. Oh that, he had to bring it up, as if it hasn’t been playing through my mind all morning. No doubt I’d be dreaming about it tonight. Another step closer. Another. Until he closes in on me, cocky signature smirk in place.
“I’m not embarrassed. I just didn’t expect you to be there, I just…” What am I supposed to say to him, that he was the first man to ever give me an orgasm? I think about the next words I’m about to speak when I notice close his body is, not an inch from mine. This is also not the time to notice the bulge poking my belly through his towel and my shirt. Only two thin barriers between him and I.
I open my mouth to speak again, not that I have to explain myself, but his fingers capture my lip, like before, and he slides his thumb over the skin almost dipping it into my mouth. He speaks again, his voice husky. “Did you like it? My mouth on your body, my fingers inside your tight pussy?” His grin drops, his expression dark, his tone accusing.
“You’ll have to savor that memory, kiska, because it won’t happen again. You like to use your body as a weapon, yeah? You know just how to make a man want you. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice, right?”
I am at a loss for words. Does he think I lured him to me on purpose? Asshole. I didn’t even know he was there!
“You know exactly how to move that body and roll those hips just right, don’t you?” Lukas continues, his voice granite and cold, releasing my lips and clenching his fists at his sides. Shivers run through my body. “I watched you, the way you moved, the sway of your hips. You got me. I’ll give you that. But I’m warning you now, you try to pull any more of that shit on me, you’ll regret it. It won’t just be my fingers inside of you, you’ll take all of me and you’ll be fucking begging for it.” Lukas storms out, leaving his untouched coffee behind and me standing, rooted on the spot, speechless.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lukas
She got to me. Deep down I knew it was a shitty move to blame her for my actions. But it’s the only way I can justify them right now, and the shame I feel spiralling from head to toe. I know she didn’t have the slightest clue I was there, or maybe she did, definitely not at first though.
My mother would be disgusted with a lot of the fucked-up things I’ve done in my life, although she was well acquainted with them—she was married to my father, who was an even bigger piece of shit than I am.
The way I treated Emilia though, I know mom would be disappointed in me—in the man I’ve become, and maybe she can forgive me because of who Emilia is and what she knows. I have a lot of respect for women, and I would never treat a woman like this under normal circumstances, but these aren’t normal circumstances.
I admit, I e
njoy this little game I’m playing with her and I can’t deny all the things her body does to me, but that’s all she is. A body. A body to toy with and fuck until I conclude my vendetta against the Blake sisters. It feels good to have the enemy so close, to have my hands around her throat, the temptation to squeeze powerful. Everything inside me tells me Alexis is alive, and I will find her. Emilia knows something about that night, I’m sure of it. They’re fucking sisters. There’s no way Emilia is in the dark about what Alexis did. My fists tighten at the thought of my brother. There was a car wreck, his blood at the scene—a lot of it, but no body. He’d been with Alexis Blake, his fuck buddy. She’d been my fuck buddy and every other man’s fuck buddy in Penderal Bay, but she was nothing. Just a pair of tits to come over.
I shake my head clear of mental images of that night and start pacing the floor in my office, door locked. When it comes down to it, I have two choices: I can carry on the way I am, letting the hate I feel take over, or I can be tactical.
I need to be smart about this, and unfortunately that means I have to bury every instinct in getting justice for my brother. I need her to trust me. She trusts no one, that much is clear. I don’t have much time with her, and I know as soon as she can find another place to stay, she’ll be gone and out of reach. I need her to stay, ideally willingly so she feels like she can open up to me—not just her legs, but her mouth because I need her to talk. I need to know what she knows.
I unlock the drawer on the bottom right side of my desk, and pull out the files I have already managed to get my hands on, and it wasn’t hard. Money talks and there are a lot of corrupt motherfuckers around who might just sell their souls to the devil for not a whole fucking lot. I haven’t told her my last name, not that she should know who I am, but I won’t lie and say I wasn’t surprised she had no idea who I am from my face alone. I’m pretty well-known, well, everywhere, but I like that she doesn’t have any preconceived ideas about who I am, only what I’ve given her.
I flip through the records I have from when Alexis went missing, scanning down the pages, collecting information like I have a hundred times over. Dates, calls, locations where she went, who she went with. I need to dig deeper because I know something is fucked up. There’s something wrong about this whole thing. I need to find more, more missing pieces to the puzzle that is Alexis Blake and her disappearance.
Alexis Blake, Emilia Blake’s older sister and the girl who killed my brother. Destroyed what was left of my heart. Emilia Blake, an accessory. The reason I hate them with a scorching fire that burns so deep, nothing will dull the flames until I do everything I can to bring them down, for him, for my brother.
Emilia fell into my hands, and I don’t believe in coincidence, not one bit. Everything happens for a reason whether we accept it or not. This is my chance to make them pay for what they did; karma is coming—in the form of me.
I can’t put my finger on what it is about Emilia that pulls me to her like a magnet and I don’t want to think about it either. Maybe it’s her attitude—she’s feisty and answers back, and it turns me the fuck on. Feeds the beast inside of me. She’s strong on the surface but there is so much more underneath, so much vulnerability. I’ve seen it, seen what I can do to her too and it’s fucking addictive. She is soft and delicate in my arms and it calls to a part of me that’s been buried deep down for a long time.
She doesn’t seem at all like her sister. No friends that I know of, her family is non-existent unless you count the piece of shit she used to live with, which I don’t. But when I think back to how close my brother and I used to be, I don’t doubt she has—had that with her sister. Girls talk, sisters share their secrets. She knows, I know she does.
I throw the papers back in the drawer and lock it, not having found anything else that I didn’t know already. Leaning back in my chair, linking my fingers behind my head as I stare at the ceiling, I take a deep breath, blowing it out, frustrated.
The police are in my pocket, so it was easy to get all the files on Alexis and what happened the night she vanished. It makes no sense though, the girl disappeared only a few days after Elijah’s car crash, and as I said, I don’t believe in coincidences. Too suspicious.
After making some phone calls to the detectives and officers I’ve been in contact with for the past two years for any updates, I’m not surprised when they give me nothing. Fucking useless assholes. It’s like she disappeared off the face of the planet, the case closed, and everyone has forgotten all about her. Except her sister of course. And me, even if nobody knows the real reason for it.
I’m almost certain Alexis is still out there alive, and if she is, I will find her. I will search for her to the ends of the earth because she knows what happened to Elijah. She’s responsible, I feel it. And there lies my biggest motive.
I won’t find her because I care about her, I couldn’t give a single shit about her. This is wholly about Elijah and taking the Blake sisters down, until they sing like canaries.
Emilia left for her class about forty-five minutes ago with one of my drivers I sent to take her there and back and keep an eye on her. I may be wrong, but I feel like she’s getting comfortable here, she certainly seemed pretty damn comfortable on my balcony, swaying those sinful hips and letting me put my hands on her. Good. Comfort makes people drop their guard, and that’s exactly what I need from her.
I stretch out my legs, feeling the soft cotton rubbing against me, still in my towel. I lock the office up behind me calling out for Anita my housekeeper, though that title is an understatement. The woman is a saint. She’s stern at first if you don’t know her, but she has been with me since I was a kid. She was my family’s maid before my mom died, then she came to work for me. My mom loved Anita, and she treated me like her son a lot of the time. I needed that when I was younger, and the maternal treatment never stopped. She would’ve made a great mom but never had any children of her own. No one could ever fill the void in my heart after my mother passed but Anita dulled the ache with her support, love and loyalty.
Emilia doesn’t know I have a housekeeper, but she’s probably guessed it. The girl is a lot of things, but she isn’t stupid. It’s definitely not me who keeps the place in pristine condition; I have too much shit to do with The Empire and the properties I own. I like that Emilia is in the dark about her, she thinks it’s just her and I here in this fuck off mansion, and most of the time that’s true. Anita is only visible when Emilia isn’t. She thinks we’re alone, and I don’t know why I like it.
After getting dressed, I make my way down the hallway only to stop outside of Emilia’s room—the guest room. I push open the door and take a few steps into the room that smells like her, like mangos and exotic fruit scented body wash. She must have used it in the shower. And now my mind is loaded with images of Emilia’s wet, naked body covered with suds of soap dripping down her perfect body, close to places I wouldn’t mind dipping into. Places where my fingers have already been. A smirk tugs at the side of my mouth as I am rewarded with the memories of how her body responded so beautifully and eagerly to my touch.
I notice the tray Anita had brought up to her room is empty—at least she isn’t starving. Why do you care? You don’t care.
I’d asked Anita to bring her something sweet and salty. It seemed to fit her mood. This girl, she ran hot and cold. One minute she is sassy and unrelenting in her stubbornness, the next she is melting into my touch making it near impossible to resist her.
I’d watched them at the beach once, Emilia and her sister. They were talking, running, laughing—well Emilia was, Alexis was more interested in her phone and kept stealing glances up at the mansion on the clifftop, my home. My chest tightens at the memory—Emilia looked at her as if she was the most important person in the world, Alexis looked at her younger sister as if she was a nuisance. I couldn’t help but feel for her, I wanted to wrap her up and take her with me. That was before.
Alexis relieved the tension in my balls and that was about it. She didn
’t interest me in the slightest, apart from the fact she was nice to look at with a hot body. The thought that I had been with her and then everything with Elijah happened, made bile rise up my throat.
I blink away the memories, taking in the bed. The duvet still slightly creased and ruffled in places, like she had attempted to make the bed. It is nowhere near the standard I am used to. Anita has yet to clean the room because if this is her standard, I wouldn’t be paying her the very generous amount I do for this shit.
Emilia came with the clothes on her back, and her phone, that was it. No laptop, tablet—nothing, which means I can’t hack anything to see what secrets she hides.
Taking long strides toward the closet I rake my eyes over the garments color coordinated on the hangers—Anita’s doing. She took my credit card one day and purchased a ridiculous amount of women’s clothing, said she thought it might inspire me to meet someone. Not sure where the logic was in that.
Most of the pieces are casual, a little grungy, which strikes me as Emilia’s style. The girl definitely likes casual over dressy, and my God is it refreshing compared to the flock of women I’m used to, who wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of jeans and Converse. Even her outfit today made my mouth dry and my blood rush south when I saw her.
Her face flashes through my head as I picture her expression this morning in the kitchen, her mouth dropped open, speechless, small lines between her brows as she frowned, and her eyes, hurt. My words had hurt her in some way and part of me relished in the idea. The other part felt an uncomfortable tightening in my stomach, closely resembling guilt.
She is just a body. She is the enemy. She’s not the soft, delicate woman I found barely breathing. Despite my hate, she is strong. That look though. I implied she was promiscuous, but the pain in her eyes told a different story. One I need to ignore.