Page 75 of Cain
“Why that song?” she asks.
“No reason.”
She lets out a soft chuckle. “So … would it be a sin if I stayed?”
“I’d say it’s a choice, and you’ve already made it.”
“Would you let me leave if I told you that was my choice?”
“No. But deep down, I know you don’t want to leave, little rose.” I hold my gaze on her for a little longer, savoring the way her cheeks flush.
“You’re a different person when you play the piano.” Her eyes drop to my lips. Fuck, I want to devour her whole. “You are kind.” She stands up. “Sweet.” She spreads her legs and sits on my lap, facing me. “Understanding.”
I trail my hand along her waist, pulling her closer to me while hers traces my chest, slowly unbuttoning my black shirt. My emotions are at war. Part of me wants to fuck her violently on the floor, and the other wants to kiss her the way she’s never been kissed before.
I can’t stop watching the way her eyes light up when she smiles. I observe every little thing, like a goddamn addict. It’s ridiculous how much I notice the tilt of her head, the way her mouth curls when she’s amused, and the way her fingers run through her hair like she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. I tell myself I’m just obsessed, and I don’t care if she’s pleased or not. But when she smiles at me, even if it isn’t very often, I feel the walls I’ve built in my chest crack.
What is this feeling?
She reaches for the roses in the vase and plucks one petal, bringing it to her lips.
“This taste will always remind me of you.” She places it in her mouth slowly, as if savoring the moment, her gaze never leaving mine.
I hold her face, my thumb brushing against her lower lip as I bite mine. “And how does this taste seem to you?”
She leans in closer. “Addictive,” she whispers, brushing her lips on mine. “Like a sin I crave, no matter the cost.”
My grip on her jaw tightens, and I pull her closer until my lips crush against hers. I kiss her roughly, with a passion that consumes me whole, and she kisses me back with equal fervor. Her lips are fire against mine. I want her. I need her.
But this moment is meant for something more than my twisted obsession.
I break the kiss, my grip tangling in her hair, forcing her to meet my gaze. Her breath is uneven, but she doesn’t pull away.
“I love how fucking sick you are,” I murmur, my fingers trailing down her throat.
She swallows, her eyes never leaving mine. “I am.”
My grip tightens on her hair again, yanking her head back and forcing her lips to mine. Fuck, I can never get enough of her. She’s like a drug I can’t quit.
“Yesterday, you said you’d be rough with me,” she says hesitantly, opening her eyes.
“That was a mistake I won’t repeat.”
The doorbell rings. Weird …
She takes a quick breath, and her eyes widen.
Grayson walks up to the door without looking at us, as discreet as ever.
“Good evening, officers. How may I assist you?”
Katerina jumps in surprise but stays quiet. I need to see what this is about.
“Cut the pleasantries. We’re here for Cain Manson. We need to speak with him. Now.”
“I’m afraid that Mr. Manson is not available at the moment,” Grayson says, his voice steady and calm.
Katerina’s eyes dart around the room, her breathing uneven. I brush my finger across her lips to shush her, fixing my gaze on hers.
