Page 35 of Desperate Crimes
She’s fire and vinegar when she’s pissed off, and I love her in a temper.
Leanna’s back to pacing again, throwing daggers at the walls with her eyes like she can will them to fall.
Goddamn, she’s stunning when she fights.
And later?
When that fire turns to need?
When she’s writhing beneath me, sobbing my name, claiming me with every kiss?
She’ll be even more beautiful then.
And I’ll finally give her everything.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she was made for this.
For me. For this life. For the us I’ve built behind the scenes, brick by brick, file by file, until I knew every detail.
She’s only twenty-four, and part of me thinks I might be a monster for taking her.
But I ignore that negative commentary.
If I am a monster?
Then, I’m her monster.
And she is mine.
Still untouched. Pure.
And don’t think for a second that’s an accident.
I made fucking sure of it.
Every guy who got too close? Gone.
Quietly. Discreetly.
She never noticed. Never had to.
I left her a clean slate.
Because when I touch her for the first time, I want it to mean something.
I want to carve my name into her soul.
I want her to feel who she belongs to.
Me.
My phone buzzes.
I glance down, annoyed at the interruption.
Sammy Ramirez.
Of course.
