Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“I didn’t kill your mother, Elle. I’m not sure how much my word is worth to you, but you have my word. I was not involved in any part of her slaying.”
I’m not sure what I expect to happen next—more questions, perhaps, or more outrage at the fact that I was there observing instead of acting. But instead of throwing more questions at me, Elle throws her arms around me instead. I’m completely taken by surprise as she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me. What began as an angry encounter between two people who are both wrestling with their past demons suddenly erupts into a burst of passion. Elle had her chance to leave, and I had my chance to stop, and now we’re both careening toward each other like trains on the same track—consequences be damned.
I hook my arm behind her, feeling the curve of her lower back against my forearm as I lift Elle onto my hips. Her legs wrap around me, thighs gripping my sides with unexpected strength, ankles crossing at the small of my back. The scent of her perfume—something floral with an undercurrent of vanilla—fills my lungs as I carry her down the narrow hallway toward my bedroom. This safe house, with its sparse furnishings and utilitarian design, has only ever been used as a solitary hideout when needed. But tonight, the moonlight streaming through half-drawn blinds transforms it into something else entirely.
When I reach the bed with its crisp, never-shared sheets, I set her down, the mattress dipping beneath our combined weight. I keep my mouth over hers, tasting the sweetness of her tongue as I bend toward her and work at each button of her shirt with trembling fingers. The fabric parts to reveal smooth skin and black lace beneath. The throbbing in the crotch of my pants has become a relentless pulse, each heartbeat sending blood rushing to my groin until the pressure against the zipper is nearly unbearable. When Elle's hand touches me there, her palm pressing firmly against the rigid outline, it sends an electric quake from my center outward, making my vision blur at the edges and a groan escape from deep in my throat.
Never did I ever think that I would be undressing Elle Monroe in my bed tonight. I never imagined I would do anything other than keep an eye on her from afar to make sure her bastard father didn’t do anything else stupid to ruin her life. But this—this is the fruition of all the complex emotions that we are both confronting simultaneously in real time. This is years’ worth of unanswered questions, consuming obsessions, and personal boundaries built around nights that changed each of our lives forever. This is a turning point, and there’s no turning back from it.
I tear her shirt away, buttons scattering across the hardwood, and nearly collapse when she plunges her hand down the front of my pants, her cool fingers wrapping around my throbbing cock with devastating precision. My brother's dying words—the mantra I've lived by for years—disintegrate into ash. "Detached" becomes a foreign concept as every nerve ending in my body screams to possess her completely, to mark her as mine. The line I swore never to cross isn't just blurring—it's burning to cinders as I dive into the flames, my control shattering like glass.
When the last piece of clothing falls away, I pin Elle's wrists above her head, feeling her pulse flutter against my thumbs. Her skin glows pale in the half-light, goosebumps rising where my breath touches her. I hover above her, hesitating—the mask I've worn for years suddenly too heavy to bear. Her eyes find mine, not searching for the vigilante who moves through shadows, but for the man beneath. My real name forms on her lips like a prayer: "Nico."
It’s crossing a line. And in this moment, I don’t care.
When I thrust into her slick heat, Elle gasps against my mouth, her nails digging crescents into my shoulders as she wrestles one hand free. She clutches my jaw, pulling me deeper into our kiss while her hips rise to meet mine. I drag my fingertips down the hollow of her throat to the swell of her breast, circling her hardened nipple until she whimpers and bites my lower lip.
Our lives have been entwined with each other ever since the night her mother was murdered, possibly even before that if fate had anything to do with it. And now that I’m laying claim to her, she will have my devout loyalty and protection, even if it means crossing more lines.
As I drive into her, Elle arches her back, her breasts gleaming with sweat in the dim light. Her nails rake down my chest, leaving trails of fire across my skin. She wraps one leg higher around my waist, pulling me impossibly deeper, and I feel myself hitting that spot that makes her gasp my name like a confession. Through the haze of pleasure clouding my mind, a thought surfaces—dangerous and clear—that I owe her more than just this moment of ecstasy. I owe her the truth about her mother's killer, even as her inner walls clench around me, threatening to unravel every secret I've ever kept.