Page 27 of Devour
As soon as the last person leaves, he rises to his full, intimidating height and steps closer, crowding me against the table.
The laptop is the only thing separating us. I can feel his breath on my face, heavy and hot, like he’s barely holding back his rage.
“Who is he?” he growls, the sound low and lethal.
I stare at him, dumbfounded.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Does he mean Noah? No… it can’t be. He doesn’t know about that.
“Is he the reason you left?” he demands.
My eyes sting with tears as I shake my head, trying to speak, but the words catch in my throat.
“Do you think of him when I’m buried deep inside you?” he growls.
“What? No!” I gasp, a wave of relief washing over me. “It’s not Noah, he just thinks I’m seeing someone else.”
“So, you are seeing someone?” he snaps.
“Luca, it’s not what you think—”
“What I think,” he cuts me off, stepping even closer, “is that you’ve forgotten who you belong to, the reason you’re standing here breathing. I think you need a little reminder.”
“Luca, you’re scaring me,” I whisper. “I haven’t been with anyone since I met you. No one.”
He searches my eyes, hunting for the truth, whatever he saw in them seems to calm him—just a little. Then—my phonevibrates sharply on the table between us breaking the trance. We both look.
The screen lights up with a name that makes my stomach drop: “Baby with two Purple Hearts.” Noah. That’s what he saved Dr. Eli’s number as.
A damn joke between them. I lunge for the phone, panic rising, but Luca grabs my wrist before I can reach it. He raises it in front of me; his eyes locked on mine—dark and burning.
“Does he know…” he rumbled, “how you scream when I fuck you?”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. He can’t know about Dr. Eli. He can’t.
“Give me his name.”
I shake my head.
“Then I’ll fuck it out of you while he listens. I’ll take his ears, the mouth he kissed you with, the hands that touched you—while you watch.”
I don’t even remember yanking my wrist from his grip before I strike him across the face. The slap echoes in the quiet boardroom. My palm stings, probably hurt me more than it hurt him.
He doesn’t even flinch. He grabs my waist and lifts me onto the table. His hands grip my thighs and spread them wide as he steps between them, leaving me no way to close them.
The laptop I’d been clutching to my chest as a shield, he snatches it from my hands and flings it across the room without a second thought.
“You’re a monster,” I hissed.
A devilish smirk spreads across his face.
“A monster you can’t stop cuming for.”
His hand fists the front of my shirt and yanks. Buttons fly in every direction. He just destroyed one of my favorite shirts.
“I hate you,” I choke out.
