Page 52 of Desperate People

I’ve wanted Lucy since the first time I saw her. I’ve craved her. Coveted her.

And she’s right.

I’ve waited too damn long to take what’s mine.

So, without another word—without a prayer to save my wretched soul—I reach out for the one woman I know I don’t deserve, and I crush my beggar’s mouth to her perfect one.

Fuck.

It’s better than I imagined.

Hot. Desperate. Explosive.

Lucy tastes like honey and seduction.

Like sin wrapped in silk.

And it’s my new favorite flavor.

She gasps against my lips, then melts into me like she was made for this, made for me.

Her arms fly around my neck, fingers diving into my hair, and I’m drowning in her—scent, taste, the way she moans when I bite her bottom lip just hard enough to feel it.

She shouldn’t fit here, not like this.

Not in my arms.

Not in my life.

But she does.

Like she was always meant to.

Maybe there’s a reason you have to dig deep to find diamonds.

They don’t come easy.

You have to tear through earth, stone, and time just to catch a glimpse.

You have to break things open.

Get your hands dirty.

Go where no one else wants to go.

Because diamonds don’t live on the surface.

They’re buried.

Hidden in the dark.

Like the real ones always are.

They’re not made for showroom lights or glass cases.

Not just for glitz and compliments and people pointing from a distance.

They’re made for pressure.

---