Page 105 of The Broken Note

He’s mine tonight.

I crave more.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I taunt him. Goad him.

His lips quirk as if he knows what I’m doing. He sees through me. Through all of it.

Despite the slight smile, his eyes turn to two pits of black. An abyss of dark promises.

“No, not afraid. You were never afraid of me, Cadey. Not even when it would have been better for you if you were.” As he speaks, his hands move. In a blink, the rest of my clothes are gone and so are his.

The notes shift.Pianissimo.Quiet. The quietest a music piece can go. Low and haunting. The sound of silence right before the crescendo. Right before the explosion of sound hits the air.

As Dutch draws nearer, my mind tilts. I thought my body would be liquid heat. I’ve done this before. He’s the only boy who’s been this close to me, closer than my next breath. I’ve traced my nails over his back. I let him consume me. Burn me to a crisp. And I came back to life.

But dragging my eyes lower on Dutch reminds me of the pain I felt.

The adjustment. The feeling that it would break me before it hit the end of me.

My body locks up, anticipating, tense.

Dutch lifts my head up with one hand, so I’m staring into his endless amber eyes. Rough fingers snap around my thighs. He guides my legs wide.

“Scared, Cadey?”

“Shut up,” I hiss, fingers curving into the rug as he pulls his hips back in preparation.

“Look at me.”

I raise my chin, my defiance burning as bright as my lust. I’m aching with desire, each nerve in my body fired up and quivering.

Even so, I refuse to let him see how powerless I am before him.

He holds my jaw in a tense grip, lust and fury tight on his skin. Sweat glistens on his taut muscles. A drop slips from his tattooed arm and plops on top of my chest, chasing a trail down the line of my stomach toward my thighs that are spread open for him.

“You hated me, didn’t you? You’ve hated me for so long that you still think hate is what this is.”

The music in my head becomes louder.

Gradually.

Slowly.

Building.

“Screw you,” I snarl, hissing under my breath as Dutch’s body lines up with mine.

I feel my heart pounding so hard it’s about to burst.

“You hate the way I make you feel, the way I make you tremble, the way I own you,” he breathes. “The way you lose control.”

I’m shaking. Everywhere is throbbing with slick, decadent heat.

In my head—a full chord.

G B D

“My sweet Cadey.” His voice is like a drug, smoke curling around the air, taking over me. Sumptuous, addictive, resonant perfection. “No matter how hard you fight, you’re mine. You’re never escaping me.”

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