Chapter Twenty-Four
Chloe
The flames spat and hissed in the fireplace before the last few pieces of charcoal wood turned into ash. My body sank deeper into the mattress, the silk of my pajamas soft as butter against my skin. Heat wrapped around me, making my eyes too heavy.
And just when they were threatening to close, a quiet creak cut through the silence.
My heart thumped, and I didn’t need to look to know it was him.
The door softly clinked shut, sealing us in, and my breath halted.
If he was moving inside, I couldn’t tell. He was making no sound. The only thing audible was the soft hiss and crackle of the fire.
I could feel his eyes on me, raking over my body, still I didn’t turn.
I still didn’t warn him off. I still didn’t adjust the shorts barely covering my ass.
I let myself stay there, exposed, ready to be served, because the slow burn of anticipation building in my stomach was too delicious to make it stop.
Every second it stretched, the feeling dragged along my spine like an invisible touch.
Then, the mattress dipped near my feet.
He climbed onto the bed, his weight shifting as he crawled on top of me, stopping midway to trace a single finger lazily up my thigh, teasing, before his lips replaced it.
His wet lips brushed against my sensitive skin before he placed a soft kiss there, then another. And another.
Heat was rippling through me in waves, and I had to bite down on my lip, stifling the sound that was threatening to escape my throat.
“I know you’re not sleeping.” He whispered in the dark; his voice dangerously low. “You are letting me touch you because you want it.”
My eyes widened as his hand gripped my shoulder, and he flipped me onto my back, wanting me to face him.
He was now on top of me, positioned between my legs, his powerful thighs spreading mine apart. His hands rested on either side of my head, completely caging me in with his body.
Darkness flickered behind his eyes, his pupils so dilated that the black ate the blue.
My blood was burning hot, and it had nothing to do with the fire still crackling its way through the remnants of wood in the fireplace. It was adrenaline, and it radiated from me like a desperate plea, and I could only hope he wouldn’t notice it.
I swallowed hard, my eyes betraying me as they drifted to his naked torso, admiring the hard lines of his muscles illuminated by the orange glow from the firelight.
If this was the pits of hell, I couldn’t care less about heaven.
My eyes trailed down and—oh, my God—he had nothing there. Completely naked, his lips curved into a wicked smile when he caught me staring at his intimidatingly thick length.
He didn’t wait, his hand came up and wrapped around my jaw, forcing my chin higher, exposing my neck to him.
He claimed it slowly, his lips trailing from my collarbone to the sensitive spot just beneath my ear.
I bit down hard on my lip, trapping the gasp that threatened to escape, but every brush of a the kiss pulled me further and further away from any sense of control.
His tongue traced the shell of my ear, letting his heavy breathing out and my back arched involuntarily.
Wetness was pooling between my thighs, and he had barely touched me. His breathing grew heavier and more ragged, as if sensing exactly what he was doing to me.
“You wore the dress I gave you to taunt me, and you were accomplished,” he whispered in my ear, his voice thick with desire. “I wanted to fuck you in it, but this is fine too.”
His firm hands slid up my waist as he spoke, pulling the silk top up with them.
My heart hammered wildly in my chest, and I lifted my head, aching to feel his lips on mine but he turned his face away cruelly, denying me at the last second, pinning both of my arms above my head with one hand.
With his free hand, his fingers began working apart each tiny button of my silk top.
I hated how my body responded to him, but I was powerless to stop it. Why did everything he was doing feel so damn good?
He unclasped the last button, the fabric falling open at my sides, and as though he was in slow motion, his finger trailed a line down the skin between my breasts. His eyes followed, until he stopped just above my navel.
I whimpered in response, my stomach clenching and pleading for more, and his icy blue eyes lit on fire.
I was completely exposed, vulnerable beneath his gaze, but for the first time, I wasn’t afraid. No, I was aroused beyond all reason.
Releasing my wrists, his hand found my breast, fingers kneading, thumb circling and teasing my sore nipple. I sucked in a sharp breath as he lowered his mouth to the other, sucking hard enough to make my head snap back, allowing all good sensations ripple through my body.
He didn’t stop there.
His mouth moved lower, licking and marking a trail down my stomach.
I was lost.
He yanked off my shorts, taking my panties with them and I gasped when I felt his erection pressing against my entrance.
He was hard, thick, and painfully ready and even if he shoved inside me brutally, it probably wouldn’t hurt, considering the pool forming just to accommodate him. I was ready for him too.
His tip pressed, stretching me, giving me the first taste of his big size.
“Fuck,” he growled almost painfully, his voice straining as he tried to hold himself back.
I reached up, trying to pull him down by the neck to kiss him.
But he was faster. He pushed me back, pinning me by my wrists, refusing to kiss me again.
The realization hit me like cold water.
Zane didn’t want to make love to me; he just wanted to fuck me, break me, and win his prize, like any other man.
The heat that had been consuming me quickly turned into ice, snapping me back to reality. What the hell was I doing?
I was kissing a murderer, a psychopath. A man who had bought me like a doll off a shelf, locked me in his house like a prisoner, and planned to use me for whatever vendetta he had. And I was letting him seduce me, letting him crawl beneath my skin…
No.
It wasn’t right. I couldn’t do this any longer.
“Please…” I gasped, my voice shaky and desperate.
His body froze on the spot, not pushing any further inside of me.
I couldn’t deny that I was attracted to him, that I had been drawn to him long before knowing who he was. It was a connection I thought I could only ever read about, one that, for a moment, almost made me feel I could finally belong somewhere.
But everything about it was wrong.
My intentions, his intentions, the entire situation we were in—it was all wrong.
I suddenly felt dirty, used, and I didn’t want to feel like that for another second.
Zane’s head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowing, trying to decipher the meaning behind my desperate plea.
“Please… Don’t do it…” I clarified with the only words I could find, my voice cracking, still feeling his tip throbbing at my entrance.
For a moment, he just stared. Something unreadable clouded in his eyes and then, he suddenly stood and walked out, completely naked, leaving his clothes behind without a care, his footsteps echoing in the silence, moving further and further away.
Zane
How the fuck did I read her so wrong?
The question gnawed as I paced the room, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Women came and went in my world—faceless, nameless, insignificant. This one was supposed to be just one more. But then her fire wrapped around me like a chain, and I had been burning ever since.
And I wanted more.
Every time she was near, my entire body ached to touch her, to claim her, to brand her mine. She awakened something primal in me, something I could barely control.
When I saw her tonight in that white dress, looking like a damn falling angel sent down to this planet to torment me, it nearly made me lose my mind.
She was a temptation hard to resist.
And all night, she’d been behaving differently. She was calm, permissive, flirty.
When I entered her room, I could tell she was awake by the sound of her breathing. I had promised a visit, she’d known I was coming and she hadn’t made any attempt to lock the door, hadn’t made any move to stop me. She’d allowed me to climb on top of her, and touch wherever I wanted.
She’d wanted that. She wanted me.
My cock throbbed at her entrance, desperate to take what had been tormenting me for so damn long. What I deserved. I wanted to ruin her, to make her cum around me, to own her in a way no one else ever had or could. I wanted to fill her so deep that she wouldn’t crave anything else but me.
My cock was right there, at her wet entrance. I could almost feel it stretching for me.
But suddenly, she shut down.
Her voice was so pleading and desperate, and not for reasons I wanted but to beg me to stop.
My instincts screamed at me to push forward, to claim what was rightfully mine, but the terror in her eyes held me back. The reflection of my own possessiveness in her eyes pulled me back like a fucking iron chain.
Stopping took every ounce of strength I had. It was the hardest fucking thing I had done.
She’d been wet for me, so fucking wet. From her body language to her begging eyes. Even the scent of her arousal told me exactly how much she wanted me.
Yet, she refused me!
The moment I pulled away, the tension in her body eased, but she didn’t dare move a muscle. I didn’t stop to grab my clothes on the way out, I just needed to get away, to put distance between us before I did something I’d regret.
How the fuck did I read her so wrong?
Too worked up and too angry to sleep, I pulled on a new pair of boxers and some slacks and headed downstairs to my gym.
I focused on the heavy bag, letting the rhythmic pounding of my fists work as a brutal release.
Each strike was a way to beat back the noise in my mind, to channel my frustration into something I could break.
The feeling of my knuckles slamming into the bag, the dull ache spreading through my hands, was a welcome distraction.
But no matter how hard I hit, no matter how many times I swung, I couldn’t get her out of my head.
The softness of her skin or those torturous amber eyes begging me to kiss her every time I refused. The image of her lying beneath me, like she was trapped beneath a monster. Everything about her, the aroused and the fearful, had become branded into my brain.
Branded.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to forget Chloe even if I lived a hundred lives and I had no clue how to break the curse that was Chloe-fucking-King.
It wasn’t just lust. No. It was something more dangerous.
I wanted to tame her spirit, break her. But at the same time, I wanted to protect her, shield her from the darkness surrounding her, even if it was my own darkness.
I wasn’t sure if I could have both.
This wasn’t me.
A man in my position couldn’t have distractions. Everyone I brought into my life would either die or become targets.
I couldn’t let myself care because that was what had taken my parents away. Because they’d allowed themselves to love, to build a family—because they’d allowed themselves to love me—and they had died because of it.
I’d put a bullet in my head before I let it happen to me.
I hadn’t exactly been a child when they’d died, but I still needed them. Their death was the last thing I’d allowed myself to feel.
I swung at the bag again, ignoring the persistent sting in my healing shoulder. Fists still relentless, numb to the ache I should have felt by now.
Now, the only thing that mattered to me was revenge on those who had caused their and my pain.
And Chloe’s only purpose is to help me achieve that.
Focus. I need to focus
.