Page 94 of Desperate People

It’s a promise.

God help me, I want him. Desperately.

Not just his body—which, yes, obviously.

He’s sex and strength and danger wrapped in muscle and ink.

But more than that, it’s the way he moves, the careful way he’s been with me since the start.

His surprising humor.

That husky laugh I’ve only heard a handful of times but already crave.

And don’t even get me started on the Spanish.

When he speaks it, it’s like sex pouring from his tongue.

Natural. Effortless. Seductive.

Like he owns the words.

Like he could own me.

Body, heart, mind, and soul.

And the worst part? I want him to.

Because it’s too late to go back.

I already belong to him.

Whether he wants me for keeps or not.

Chapter Twenty-One-Balor

She’s in my house.

In my kitchen.

Still in her wedding dress, standing there like something out of a fever dream—and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve her, but I’m not questioning it.

Not tonight.

I’ve got her now.

And maybe I said too much.

Maybe I let her see too far behind the curtain.

How crazy she makes me.

How deep this obsession runs.

How much I need to own every piece of her.

But I don’t care.

Because she’s here.

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