Page 22 of Forbidden

“I just did.” His eyes lock on mine, hard and unreadable.

“Stop dodging!” I’m yelling now, shoving him. He doesn’t budge, like a damn wall. “What’s going on?”

He steps closer, towering over me. “You’re alive because of me. That’s what counts.”

I laugh. “Alive? You smashed a guy to pieces in my kitchen!”

“Would’ve been worse if I didn’t.” His voice drops, dark as tar. “You don’t get it, Penelope. Guys like him don’t quit.”

“And you do?” I push him again, uselessly. “You think you’re my savior now?”

“No.” He snags my wrists and holds me tightly. “I’m the bastard who keeps you standing.”

I pull free and stumble back. My head’s spinning, a storm of too much. “I don’t even know what we are,” I spit, voice cracking. “You lick me senseless one day, freeze me out the next, then show up swinging a bat like some psycho knight. What the hell is this?”

He steps in, pushing me against the wall, his body and pinning me there. His weight is crushing, all muscle and heat.

“I’ve been fighting myself raw, Pen. Trying to do right by you—by her.” His voice cracks, just a tremor. “Sophia’s ghost has been at my throat every fucking day, and you’re like gasoline on the fire. I can’t stop thinking about your cunt, how you taste. I’ve jerked off to you so many times that my hand is raw from picturing you spread out, screaming my name.”

“Then stop!” I shove him, tears stinging hot in my eyes. “We can kill this before it buries us. We’re choking on guilt, so let’s fucking end it!”

“No.” His hands crash against the wall, framing my head and trapping me. “I’ve had my tongue inside you, felt you explode on it. You’re burned into my fucking soul now, Pen. I’m not letting you go. I can’t.”

My breath snags. He’s too damn close, leather and smoke choking my lungs, his scent sinking into me. His hand drops, rough fingers shoving up my skirt, ripping past my panties to find me soaked—fuck, I’m drenched—and I hate how my body screams for him. He drives two fingers deep, curling them hard into that spot that makes me see white, and I gasp, fisting his shirt.

“Adriano—” My voice breaks, and my hips jerk into his touch before I can stop them.

“Feel that?” he growls, his thumb dragging slow, torturous circles over my clit. “You’re fucking gushing for me. Lie to yourself all you want, but this pussy’s begging.” His free hand snatches mine, then forces it down to his jeans where his cock is throbbing, already thick and hard as iron. “Touch me. Wrap your hand around me now, sweetheart.”

I shouldn’t. I should poke his eyes out, scream, anything but this. But my fingers tremble, fumbling, and then I’m stroking him through the denim, feeling him pulse in my hands. He groans, deep and feral, rocking into my hand. We’re grinding against each other, desperately with Theo’s bleeding body still sprawled nearby, his blood pooling slick under my boots.

It’s fucked up, twisted as hell, and I’m drowning in it, heat twisting tight and low.

“Say it,” he rasps, his fingers pumping faster, slick and relentless. “You want me.”

“No,” I spit, but my hips grind harder, chasing his hand.

“Say it, Pen.” He orders this time. “Tell me you want my cock.”

“I want you,” I choke out, the truth flying free. It sends me over—shattering hard, crying his name, nails digging into his shoulders as he grunts, hot and ragged, spilling into his jeans against my hand. We’re gasping, ruined, the air thick with sex and death.

He doesn’t stop there. His hands pull my shirt up, which was already half-torn from Theo’s grabby bullshit, and bares my tits.

“Been dreaming about these too,” he mutters.

His mouth crashes down, sucking my nipple hard, teeth grazing the peak until I whimper. He’s rough, and greedy, his tongue swirling wet and hot, then biting just enough to sting. His other hand kneads my ass, pulling me tighter against him, fingers digging into my flesh like he’s branding me.

“Every night, Pen,” he growls against my skin, switching to the other breast, sucking harder, leaving marks. “Fisting my cock, imagining you riding me, these tits bouncing, your cunt choking me dry. You’ve fucked me up since you came back and I’m addicted to every goddamn inch of you.”

I moan, my head tipping back against the wall, still lost in the heat of his mouth, the filthy confession sinking into me like a drug. It’s too much—too raw, too fucking everything—and I’m still trembling, my legs quaking from coming so hard, slick dripping hot down my thighs.

His teeth graze my nipple one last time, a sharp sting that jolts me, before he pulls back, eyes black with hunger.

He swipes his hand—still wet from me—across his jeans, smearing the mess like it’s nothing.

“This ain’t over, Pen,” he tells me. “It was a fucked up thing for me to do, pulling away for the past days but I was a goddamn idiot. It won’t happen again. You’re in me now, and I’m keeping you there.”

I slump against the wall, barely holding myself up, my legs like jelly. His words hit hard, but it’s the way he’s looking at me—like I’m his next breath—that has my pulse hammering. He steps closer again, crowding me, his hand planted beside my head.

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