Page 74 of Souls and Sorrows

“How do you know that?”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Little Nightmare.” I shrug, sliding the gun back into my waistband. “There’s a first aid kit in the glove compartment. He can patch himself up.”

She gapes, mouth wide, and looks to him for confirmation. Through labored breaths, he nods, tossing me a dirty look, and I reach down to grab under her arm, hauling her up. Whirling on me, Ariana shoves at my chest, her anger nearly matching my own.

“I’m not going home with you now!”

“Either get in or I shoot him a second time.” Glancing down at the man I’ve employed for six years, I raise my brows. “Maybe this time, I’ll aim a little lower. Take out a kneecap.”

“He didn’t evendoanything to you.”

Like a thin rubber band finally reaching its breaking point, my patience snaps, and I yank Ariana into me, wrapping my arms around her middle and pitching us forward. We fall into the doorway of the backseat, and she screams, struggling like hell to get away from me.

Wiggling an arm through, she manages to drive her elbow into my eye, but I wrestle her into the seat. She kicks, losing a slipper in the process, and flips onto her back as I reach to pull the door shut behind us.

The childproof locks latch as soon as we’re closed in, and it seems to renew her sense of rebellion. We roll to the floor, and I cover her again as she breaks an arm free, raising her hand, and then her palm connects with my cheek with a loud, resoundingcrack.

We both freeze, and after the initial sting of the assault subsides, a honeyed heat drizzles over my skin like warm wax. It travels down the length of my spine, collecting at the base and sending blood straight to my dick.

I blink down at her as she tenses, clearly expecting some sort of retaliation. But it’s like the slap cleared the broken, raging portion of my brain and replaced it with liquid arousal.

My chest heaves. Her skin glows effervescent in the streetlights, and she looks like a fucking dream—not a nightmare, not this time.

A dream.

My dream.

Running the risk of whiplash from my shift in emotions, I blow out a surprised breath and let my weight fall on her.

All of it.

My pelvis grinds into her groin, the motion bending her left knee and pushing it slightly off the seat. She sucks a gasp through her teeth, nostrils flaring as the hard length of me lines up with the softness of her.

“Again,” I breathe, the single word harsh as it pushes past my lips. “Do that again.”

She hesitates, unsure. A scowl draws her delicate features in, setting them on fire. Then, she lifts her left hand, swallows audibly, and repeats the action on my opposite cheek.

The band of the diamond ring is sharp as it connects with my skin, and I feel it tear at my flesh, but the same sensation washes through me. Pain, acute and concentrated, immediately followed by a rush of warmth unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

“What the hell is happening—”

I grab the underside of her jaw, shoving her head back, and cut her off by sealing my mouth to hers.

The kiss crackles with aggression and lust, weeks of pent-up sexual tension relieving itself in the act. Her lips yield, allowing me to take charge, even as her body fights for dominance. A hand tangles in my hair, tugging at the roots, while her other comes up around the back of my neck, holding me as close as she can get.

As if relinquishing, even a little, might cause me to drift away.

I don’t think I could be dragged from her at this point.

She licks my bottom lip, then pulls it into her mouth and bites down.

“Jesus Christ,” I say into her mouth, wishing there were a way to make our breath into one.

She tastes like divinity, like blood on the cross, come to cleanse me of my sins.

We pause at the same time, her thumb sweeping over my cheekbone.

“You’re bleeding,” she says, showing me the pad of her finger.

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