Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Liana
The forbidden wing is bigger than I imagined.
Huge, really. It’s like a whole other house I didn’t know existed.
I sneak through, the shadows making me jump at just the slightest sound.
My heart is pounding so loud I’m half-convinced it’ll give me away.
If I get caught, I'll surely be in trouble.
Water drips from my hair, but I barely notice it as I sneak through, my curiosity dragging me along whether I like it or not.
I turn a corner and freeze. I swear I hear a sound behind the next door.
Then another comes. A curse, low and rough.
“Pinche.”
It’s Frankie’s voice except it’s not the Frankie I know.
This one’s raw, almost guttural and it sends a low flutter through my stomach.
I press myself against the wall, straining to hear more.
He must be pissed or maybe yelling at someone on the phone?
Maybe he called Rio to tattle on me? Another few seconds pass and then I catch the edge of his breathing.
It sounds heavy and unsteady. Maybe he’s working out? This isn’t where the gym is though…
He curses again and suddenly it hits me.
Heat slams into me hard and I find myself bracing against the door.
Lust. That’s what’s in his voice. Is he touching himself?
My body reacts before my brain can process it and a slow, liquid ache settles between my legs.
My mind whirls with visions of him naked and hard.
His large tattooed hand wrapped around his cock as he strokes himself to the sight of me topless at the pool.
At least I can only hope that’s what he’s imagining.
I know I should leave. I should turn around and pretend I never heard a thing.
But I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot, desperately wishing his hands were on me instead. What is wrong with me?
I lean in, cheek pressed to the cold wood of the door, my pulse hammering. The door gives a little and I freeze. It’s open just enough for me to catch a glimpse through the crack.
‘Jesus.’
It’s better than I ever imagined. Frankie sits in a leather chair with his legs spread, facing the window…
the same window that looks out over the pool.
His jeans are open, cock out, thick and hard in his tattooed fist as he pumps himself slowly.
He looks like a God, completely shirtless, his ink swirling across every muscle.
Every inch of him is a map of violence and beauty.
The tattoos crawl up his chest and up to his throat where a white flower blooms under his neck.
I want to touch it but everything about this man suddenly terrifies me.
I can’t move. I can’t even breathe as I devour every inch of his body, saving it for later when I’m alone in my bed.
His head tips back and his jaw clenches as his hand moves faster over himself.
The muscles in his arm flex causing his veins to stand out.
It’s so hot, I might actually be drooling.
The flower on his neck seems to pulse with every ragged breath.
It’s obscene and beautiful. It’s scary and thrilling and I can’t look away.
I’m so lost in it that I don’t notice when his rhythm stutters.
When his eyes snap open and he sees me. By the time I realize, he’s already moving towards me.
Three strides and he’s at the door, shoving himself back into his jeans.
I barely have time to flinch before his hand is on my throat, gripping me.
He’s not choking me, just holding me there as he stares down at me. His eyes are black with fury.
“What the fuck are you doing in this wing?” He growls. “I told you it was off limits.”
I should be terrified. Instead, I’m burning up from the inside out. And I can smell him…sweat, cedar, gunpowder and something darker. It makes my head spin and I can barely think straight enough to form a full sentence.
“I saw you,” I say, managing to keep my voice steadier than I expect. “Watching me at the pool.”
His jaw tightens but he doesn’t deny it.
So he was watching me. For how long? My eyes drop to the bulge in his jeans.
He’s still hard and the thought makes me shiver.
Something reckless takes over as I reach for him and my palm presses against his bulge.
His eyes go wide, then narrow, and a feral sound rips out of him.
His grip tightens on my neck causing my other hand to fly up and grip his fingers.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he grits out.
“Finishing what you started,” I whisper. I barely recognize myself right now. Who is this girl who suddenly has grown balls of steel? He shoves my hand away quickly like it burns him.
“You have no idea what kind of game you’re playing, little girl.”
There’s those words again. The ones that pissed me off before.
“I’m not a little girl,” I snap. “I’m eighteen years old and you didn’t seem to think I was so little when you were watching me through your window like a creep.”
His eyes flash and he grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. His face is so close I can taste his breath.
“There are things you don’t understand, little Datura,” he says, voice soft but lethal. “One day, when you figure them out, you might not be so bold.”
Before I can ask what the hell that means, he pushes me back into the hallway and slams the door in my face.
The sound echoes down the hallway like a gunshot.
I stand there shaking. I don’t know if it’s from anger or lust. Datura.
He called me poison. I’m not sure what stings more…
the rejection, or the way he looked at me like he wanted me but that I was far too dangerous.
What did I expect? That he’d pull me in and show me what I’ve only read about in books?
‘Idiot.’
I walk back to my room, my steps heavy, and sigh as I flop onto my bed. The heat between my thighs is gone, but something else still lingers. He wants me…even if he’s too afraid to say it out loud.