Page 12 of Vicious Vows

“I don’t care about your father’s life. I care about my business coming under fire from my enemies. Now, can they trace you? Will they know where you were when you hacked them, and can they follow your work back to my computers or your name, or code, or whatever?”

He’s angry for no reason. My work is solid. I need to stop letting fear of his response affect my reaction. I straighten and square my shoulders and say, “No. I’m certain my work is solid. That’s what you hired—uh… that’s why I’m here.”

Stumbling over my words is the least of my concern. The look in his eye, like a hungry predator hunting me down, unnervesme. And when he leans closer, I shudder, and goosebumps rise on my arms. “You mean, that’s why I married you?” He sets his glass on the table next to the empty one and pushes a strand of my black hair out of my face with a single pinky.

My tongue flicks over my lips as my body tenses. I’m feeling the warming of the alcohol, but I’m also sensing my body responding to him. I like a good romp now and then, and though I’ve had a few partners since college, I wouldn’t consider any of them someone I’d be serious with. But I’m married to this man, and he clearly wants me.

“I’m tired. I’d like to lie down,” I say, bolting off the couch. I walk toward the door, and he growls out his displeasure.

“You’re only making it more difficult on yourself, Micah. I see the way you look at me. And I see the way your lips flush deep red when I touch you. You’re aroused by me.” The leather creaks, and I know he’s standing up. His footsteps echo ominously in the large, open room, chasing my pounding heartbeat. I pause, my hand hovering over the doorknob, breath hitching as his voice washes over me.

"You can deny it all you want, Micah," he continues, "but I know the truth. Your body doesn't lie."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shiver up my spine, and despite my best intentions, my body betrays me. I can't deny the electric thrum that pulses under my skin at his words. I can resist him all I want, denying the carnal call of his presence, but there's no denying the instinct.

"You think you know me so well, Luke?" I challenge, turning to face him. His form looms large in the dimly lit room, a darksilhouette against the minimal city lights filtering in through the window. His stance is casual, but his intent is anything but.

"I know enough," he responds, his voice laced with a quiet confidence that chips at my resolve. He steps forward, and I swallow hard as the distance between us diminishes. With each footfall, my heart rate spikes. He picks up on it, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “I know what you want. What you desire.”

I hold his gaze, my breath hitching as he inches closer. “And what might that be?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. The defiance in it surprises even me. But there’s an element of curiosity too.

His smirk broadens, and he leans in, his lips just a breath away from mine. He takes my chin in his hand, tilting my head up so I have no choice but to stare into his dark eyes. “You want me to take control.” His words are a soft purr that sends jolts of anticipation through my body. “You want me to dominate you.”

Instinctively, I step back, but the wall prevents any further retreat. Luke's hand releases my chin, dropping to my waist and pulling me against the hard expanse of his body. His lips barely brush against mine as he speaks again. “You want me to bend you over my knee, Micah.”

The imagined image hits me like a punch to the gut. It’s so vivid, I see it in spite of myself. My face heats up at the thought, but my lips part slightly, an unvoiced affirmation of his words.

Luke chuckles low in his throat and steps back, releasing me from his grasp. He runs a hand through his short, dark hair before reaching for me again, but in that instant, my mind kicks in. I open the door and bolt through it, heading toward thestairs. I need to put space between us now or I will regret what my body wants to do, which my mind says I should hate.

I don't look back. I'm too afraid of what I'll see in his eyes, of what that look might do to me. I ascend the stairs two at a time, an irrational fear propelling me forward. As if Luke would chase after me, haul me back into his arms, and do exactly what he has promised.

As I burst into the sanctuary of my room, I slam the door shut behind me and lean against it. The cool wood seeps through my shirt, grounding me. My heart beats like a trapped bird in my chest, fluttering against my ribcage.

“He's a monster,” I tell myself. “A criminal. So why does my body want him so badly?” The question hangs in the air, echoing in the silent room. I slide down the door until I’m on the floor. My arms wrap around my knees, pulling them close to my chest. I bury my face into my arms, hiding from the world and the man who has somehow managed to get under my skin.

The memory of his words still linger, playing over and over again in my mind like a haunting melody. “You want me to take control.” My body burns just at the thought, desire pooling between my thighs. This is so wrong—I should be repulsed by his arrogance, his audacity. But the idea of surrendering control to him, to Luke, sends a tantalizing thrill down my spine that I can't ignore.

And when I hear footsteps approaching, I know he’s coming for me. I should hide under the bed, or in the bathroom, but part of me doesn’t want to. Unbidden images flash through my mind—the rough texture of his hands on my skin, his powerful frame pressing me into submission. I can almost feel the sting of his palm against my ass, can practically hear the echo of it in thesilence of this room. I clench my fists and shake my head, trying to dispel those haunting fantasies.

“Micah,” he says, jiggling the doorknob, and I push myself off the floor.

I back away, my skin tingling with anticipation, as if it somehow knows that he's only feet away. And when the door knob turns and his face appears, my breath hitches in my chest. His eyes are dark, intense, as if he's peeling back layers of me I didn't even know existed.

His lips quirk in a small smirk. "Running away?" His voice is low and husky as he steps into the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click that echoes ominously.

"Yes," I whisper, my voice barely audible. But instead of acting victorious, Luke just moves forward, his presence filling the room.

"Run all you want, Micah," he says, his gaze never leaving mine as he moves closer. The intense desire in his eyes is impossible to ignore. Even when my back hits the wall and I have nowhere else to go. I swallow, my throat suddenly dry, taken aback by the raw male energy he exudes.

"There’s nowhere left to run, Micah." He corners me against the wall, his body barely touching mine, yet I can feel the heat radiating from him. His eyes roam over my face before settling on my lips. "But if it's a chase you want..."

His voice trails off as he leans in closer, our noses almost touching, his breath ghosting over my lips seductively. My heart lurches in my chest, pounding erratically. Against all my rational thought, I find myself tilting my head, closing the distance. His lips crash into mine, the force of it pushing me hard against thewall. It's not tender or gentle, but rough and raw, filled with an insatiable hunger that mirrors my own. My hands come up to grip his shirt, my knuckles turning white as I hold on for dear life.

He tastes like sin and danger, a potent combination that sets my nerves ablaze. I part my lips to deepen the kiss, granting him access where he immediately takes advantage. His tongue explores my mouth aggressively yet deliberately, staking its claim. Each stroke fans the flames of desire burning within me, making me forget why I was resisting in the first place.

His hands snake around my waist, pulling me flush against him. I can feel the hard planes of his body through our clothing, the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressed against my lower belly. It’s a shocking reminder of what he's capable of, what he wants to do to me—what I want him to do.

"Luke," I gasp against his lips, but he silences me with another bruising kiss. His hand moves up to cup my face, his thumb gently tracing my bottom lip before dipping inside. The intimate gesture sends a jolt of electricity through me. His touch is gentle yet possessive, like he already owns me and knows every secret corner of my body.

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