Page 38 of A Taste like Sin

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Until his mouth quirks, a lethal smile. “I will tell you, sweet girl,” he swears. “ButI am not sure if I

should. Sharing experiences is not one of my strong suits. From an entirely selfish standpoint…I

should dissuade you.”

God, the way he said that word.Selfish. It contained way more than possession—a grit making every

syllable harder than it should be. I should be terrified. In fact, I am, according to the pitching

sensation jolting my stomach. Terrified. Intrigued. Curious.

And in this moment, I can no longer beat around the bush.

“Make me forget, Damien,” I say. I beg. “I need to forget. I need to…” My fingers tear through my

hair, ripping at stray strands. “The reporters are everywhere I look. I can’t even hate my father

despite all he’s done to me. I feel like I’m going insane—”

“Sí.” He’s close before I realize it. Like liquid fire, his fingers find my chin, tilting it so our mouths

are within dangerous reach. To heighten the nearness, his breath fans mine, searing and potent. “I will

give you a taste of control. But I need you to promise me one thing.”

I suck in a breath. “What?”

“That you will trust me.”

Trust. That word takes on an entirely new connotation coming from him. It’s more than a mere

surrender of doubt—it’s a surrender of sanity.

Of instinct.

Of safety.

To trust him will mean forsaking the one thing I’ve just begged him for.

I’ll lose any shred of control.

I’ll lose my goddamn mind.

“Can you do that for me?” His thumb traces the line of my jaw in a distracting, teasing swipe. “Give

me your trust?”

“It’s not like I have much of a choice,” I admit in a whisper.

It’s either him…

Or the horrors in my head.

With only a second to decide, I nod. “Yes.”

“Good.” His resigned frown takes my breath away. Like he said, he’s breaking his own rules. For me.

“Then get dressed. I will make the arrangements.”

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