Page 96 of Devil's Iris
I twist my fingers into his bloodstained shirt, still gasping softly. “But I’m not, and I won’t,” I whisper. “I’m not scared of you, Romeo.”
He stares at me with this mixture of stunned awe, dark lust, and something that feels dangerously close to affection. He looks like he would like to choke me again and kiss me in the same breath. And fuck, I want him to. I want it all—the gentle and the rough. Whichever one he decides to give me, I’ll take it. I just want him. Period.
I love him.
The realization hits me like lightning, sudden and illuminating and absolutely terrifying.I love this dangerous, complicated, blood-stained man, and there’s no going back from that.
Before I can fully process the magnitude of what I’ve just admitted to myself, his hand tightens on my throat again—not enough to cut off my air supply this time, just enough pressure to remind me who’s in control here.
Except he’s not in control. Not anymore. We both know it.
He starts walking me backwards, and my pulse answers him like a drum as my legs shuffle back.
“I’m nobody’s fucking Romeo,” he grates out.
Then he spins me around until I’m pressed cheek-first to the wall, the cotton of my bra squishing against cool plaster and my sensitive nipples tingling at the friction.
One hand pins my nape while the other slides down, tugging at my zipper. The rasp of it echoes in the quiet, and I shudder as the fabric parts and cool air kisses my spine.
Next, he yanks my dress down and, with a flick that feels practiced, my bra clasp comes undone. And just like that I’m naked, trapped against the wall, and already trembling with want.
Then he takes a step back, and I risk a glance back, justenough to catch the sight of cold steel in his hand. A gun. My stomach drops even as my pulse rockets, because apparently my body hasn’t figured out there’s a difference between terror and desire.
“This is what I would have used to kill that fucker,” he says flatly. “But it was personal, so I didn’t. I’ve taken many lives with this, though.”
The muzzle lands at the base of my spine, and I gasp as a sharp, charged shiver works its way through my body from the cold kiss of the metal. He drags the barrel up slowly, tracing each vertebra like he’s doing a mental countdown.
“It’s still fucking loaded,” he rasps, voice rough and low behind me. “One accidental slip of my finger, and you could be gone. Just like that.”
“You’ll never hurt me.” I don’t know where I get my confidence from. Here’s a killer at my back with a loaded gun, yet my thighs are sticky with arousal, heart pounding furiously. Because I know, as certain as breathing, that he’d hurt himself before he ever hurt me. It’s a gut knowledge I don’t question.
The gun slides higher, cool and unyielding against my neck, until the tip presses against my temple. “Still sure about that?” His breath ruffles the air at my nape, and I swallow my moan, my eyes fluttering shut.
“Shoot me then. If you can. I dare you.” More wetness seeps from my core as I lean into the gun, my pulse drumming wildly as his sharp inhale reaches my ears. A second passes, then two… three.
Then—click. The empty chamber snaps louder than any gunshot.
I jolt at the sound, a spike of adrenaline and heat surging through me as I glance back at him.He actually pulled the trigger.My core clenches, and I squeeze my thighs together.
He steps in, chest flush to my back, caging me against the wall. “Stillsure about that?” he breathes into my ear.
I turn my head just enough to meet his gaze over my shoulder. “If there were really bullets in there, you never would’ve pulled the trigger,” I say softly. “You can’t hurt me, Romero.You can’t.”
His hard expression melts into something raw—equal parts amazement and hunger. Then his hand grips my jaw, spinning me around, and his mouth crashes down on mine like he’s hell-bent on swallowing the very breath he just threatened to take.
The kiss is bruising,consuming, all teeth and heat and raw desire. He dominates my mouth, leaving no corner unexplored, and I moan into it, hands tangling in his hair as I kiss him back with the same desperate fire, our tongues colliding and sparring.
He seizes control instantly, trapping my tongue and sucking hard. A groan rips from me, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as I tighten my grip on his hair.
A shiver jolts through me when the cool metal of the gun touches my hip bone. Romero traces lazy circles with it, dragging the barrel over my skin, around my hips, before sliding it down to my inner thigh. I gasp, breaking the kiss as he nudges it higher, teasing, until it presses against my pelvis. Then the steel slips lower, parting me, gliding through my slick folds.
My head falls back against the wall with a dull thud. “Romero.”
He pulls the gun away almost immediately, eyes wide. I follow his gaze—to the wetness gleaming on the tip. “This arouses you?” His deep, guttural voice vibrates through me, making me lick my lips and grind against him.
“Everything you do arouses me,” I pant. “Because it’s you, and I—”love you.
The rest of the words, though unspoken, are loud as he crushes his mouth to mine again, swallowing them whole. He knows what I was about to say.He has to know. The thought setsme ablaze, and I squirm in his arms, desperate to wrap my thighs around him, aching for the pressure on my clit.
