Page 4 of Vow of Vengeance
Her bottom lip parts from the top, and I think she's going to laugh until I run my thumb over her lip. "Say it."
Soren is a deer caught in the headlights, unable to move or speak. Instead, she stutters. "I— I'm not— "
"I told you, there's no escape for you. You want children, and I want you pregnant with mine. So, promise me now."
My poor little bird is struggling to understand what I want from her, though I think I've been pretty damn clear. Her mouth opens, and then closes again, and she swallows. "Declan, I— "
"Promise me."
I can practically feel her heart racing, fear at what she's being asked to agree to. Whether she says it or not doesn't honestly matter. I'm not asking for her permission so much as her compliance, but I can take what I have to if I must.
"I'll eat." Her voice is just a whisper, even for all the effort she put into those two words. But that's not what I asked for. I shake my head, making the indication clear.
"Promise me." I say again, prompting her.
Her eyes close a minute, so I let her have that to herself, waiting ‘til they open again, and she blows out a long breath.
"When it's our baby, I'll eat." It's not exactly the way I imagined her saying it, but it does something to me all the same. I groan, imagining sinking between her thighs, finding a home there, picturing her swollen with our child, her body changing because of me and the life we will make. It's her next words, though, that really sink straight to my balls. "I promise."
three
Soren
I'mcertifiablyinsaneforwhat I've just said. There's no other way to justify telling my fucking stalker that I'll have a kid with him. Of course, I didn't promise him that I'd have his child in those exact words, but I may as well have. I didn't sayifwe have a baby, I saidwhenit's our baby...
Somehow, I'm not horrified by the prospect. It's just more proof that something is wrong with me, evidence to go right along with the slickness between my thighs, which has no fucking business being there. And yet, I want him. I've been wanting him.
The fact that he's already talking about knocking me up and having me pop out his children should feel like a red flag, bringing my attraction to him skidding to a halt. It's disgustingly misogynistic, and I've never thought too hard about my feelings of feminism, but any that I've had is being drowned out by the way he's looking at me right now, like he's ready to get started on making me fulfill that process.
I wouldn't be surprised if he threw everything on the floor and fucked me over the tabletop right now. I am, however, surprisedby what he does instead. He grips the back of my head and brings his lips to mine, and for a moment, everything stills as he pulls me into a kiss.
It's wrong, it's weird, it's a betrayal to my husband and to my better senses and to the girl he's been watching for weeks, but I want it. I wanthim, so I don't pull away when his lips land gently on mine, coaxing life into them.
At this point, it's magnetic.
Instinctive.
I kiss him slowly, my heart pounding in my chest and my blood in my ears, and I lose track of everything else. Everything beyond him ceases to exist as he pulls me deeper into him, so that my head falls back just enough to give him a better angle.
I expect, after all this tension and him watching me and all of the innuendo, that he's going to devour me. I expect his kiss to be a short prelude to something raw and feverish, something wild and carnal. But it's gentle and perfect, and when his other hand cups my chin, holding me exactly where he wants me, I feel myself melting.
He doesn't rush the moment, letting me enjoy the feeling of his soft lips moving against mine, his warm breath ghosting in the little space between us, his tongue as it slides against my lips, testing whether I'll give him an entrance rather than demanding one. Just as I do, he retreats, returning to kissing me tenderly, sweetly, without any pretense. It's maddening, stoking something inside of me that I can't even begin to comprehend. When his tongue dips out again to probe gently at my lower lip, I lose the restraint I didn't realize I was even holding onto.
Now, it's me who deepens our kiss, my tongue that explores his, sharing control, just like he wanted. I taste every bit of the desire in him, desire that's tamped just below the surface, so ready to burst. All it would take is a little shove.
Declan pulls away, and the distance between us suddenly feels too great. I'm cold and empty, breathless with need and confusion and betrayal.
"What's wrong?" I'm not sure if the betrayal is from myself for wanting more or from him for making me want this and then taking it away.
He steps away from me, running a hand through his hair. The act makes him look roguish, devious. But when his eyes flick back to mine, there's no playfulness there. He's dangerous, cold and calculating yet lit on fire by something... me.
His voice is strained when he speaks.
"You don't realize how little control I'm clinging to right now, Soren."
"So let go." I laugh.
Isn't that what he's been demanding I do all day? Isn't that why he tied me to the bed and made me lose control over my bladder, to prove that letting go doesn't have to feel so monumentally terrifying?
