Page 49 of Inferno

Pulling my hair out of the ponytail, I let it cascade down my back, ruffling out the curls, with the dark purple shining in the light through the black.

He can take me as I am.

And I think that is exactly what draws me to him.

He simply wants me. Just how I am.

Chapter 17

DECLAN

Song- Red Velvet, Jutes, Ari Abdul

Ithought I had her. The heat on her face in the spa room when I had her throat in my hand, it did something to me. And the blush that stained her cheeks when she got that milkshake? Yeah, I clocked that too. I waited. Watched.

So when she turned toward her own room and not mine, the disappointment hit me like a fucking sucker punch.

I yank my black shirt off, tossing it on the couch, and stride to the balcony, throwing the doors wide open and stepping into the sun-soaked air.

The view’s something out of a movie, ocean glowing, sky on fire.

I glance down at my Rolex. Still early. No message from Enzo yet, not even a fucking time.

Maybe I should go find her. I need to see her. Taste her. I can’t even think straight, let alone focus on a business meeting.

If Enzo picks up on that? He’ll smell blood in the water.

Fuck it. Maybe I just eat her out on the floor and leave her tied to the bed while I go to the meeting.

I could do it. Easy.

Then come back; finish what I started.

But even an hour wouldn’t be enough.

If I had my way, I’d keep her chained to the bed the rest of the damn trip.

I don’t believe in love at first sight, and I don’t even know her fucking name. But I’ve never wanted anything the way I want her.

And the thought of walking away without knowing what this could be? That might be the one thing I can’t stomach.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and unlock it.

Unknown

11AM tomorrow. Location incoming.

Perfect. I’ll have all night and most of the morning with her.

I pocket my phone and head toward the elevator. Press the button, step inside, and hit “G.”

The doors slide shut and I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirrored walls. Ink swirling over my bare chest, across my arms.

It’s Italy. Shirtless works.

Plus, if she’s gonna dig her nails into me, I want to feel every goddamn second of it.

The elevator dings, doors gliding open.

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