Page 49 of One Kiss Isn't Enough
The other men are silent. Cigarettes burn at the tips of their fingers. Not a soul makes a move. The second guy was standing close enough that he has to be bloodied. Impossible to tell for sure with our dark clothes and the dark night. His face is frozen.
“Mind cleaning this up for me, brother?”
Fletcher doesn’t appear disturbed in the least by the death of one of the members of our team. His mouth quirks. Not quite a smile. Not quite a frown. More like acceptance. Like he expected this. All of them should have expected this from me. I’ve been this person for six years now. I’m not going to change because Madelyn is in a cell.
“Not at all, boss.”
I adjust my sleeves as my brother steps over to the body. He bends down and feels for a pulse. It’s not necessary. The man’s dead.
“Did anyone else have any comments about my future wife before I leave?”
I didn’t intend to react to what they were saying, but my pounding heart didn’t get the memo. Sick. I’ll be damned. It was a simple bullshit comment that didn’t mean anything. I felt it like a bullet through flesh.
The anger I’ve kept buried for the last six years is alive and well. It doesn’t matter that I flipped the switch. It’s all come back in an instant.
None of them has a damn thing to say. The only thing that surrounds us is silence and the threat of imminent death if they dare to say another word.
The third man taps the ash off his cigarette. He backs up half a step from the body, leaving room for my brother to roll the dead man onto his back.
“Get the wheelbarrow,” my brother orders.
Everyone snaps into motion. They’ll need to dig a hole at the edge of the woods, tip the body into it, and cover him back up. Not a single word is spoken in protest. Now that I’ve made my point, we shouldn’t have any further conflict.
I’ve been patient. I’ve been meticulous. I’ve been planning.
Now that I have her, I’m going to use her to my advantage and use her for my pleasure.
If that makes me sick, so be it. It’s time to enjoy the spoils of revenge.
MADELYN
With his hand on my shoulder and his rough heated skin against mine, he opens the bedroom door.
The baby is sleeping. Soundly and at a distance where I’ll hear if he wakes.
This is the price I’ll pay for the life I lead and the desires I’ve had for as long as I’ve known what it means to exist in this world.
A fire is already lit, surrounded by a stone mantel that reaches to the ceiling. The simplicity and masculinity of the room are undeniable. A gray textured wallpaper lines the back wall, while woodsy tones paired with blacks and grays add to the dominating atmosphere. The massive bed is a king and at the end of it is a tufted warm brown leather ottoman.
I’ve always seen Connor as a rugged man. Ruthless and foreboding. I never could have imagined his private room to have such warmth and elegance. The harsh lines and darkness certainly fit his persona, though.
With a heavy breath, I peek down at myself and my arms instinctively cover my chest. The torn cotton gown appears cheap and out of place in a space like this. My knees are dirty and although the room itself is warm and expensive, all I feel is cold and trapped.
“This needs to come off,” Connor whispers behind me, his warm breath just beneath the shell of my ear. His light touch on my bare shoulders as he brushes down the straps of my nightgown causes me to shiver involuntarily. A line of goosebumps travels down my curves as the nightgown falls. It doesn’t do so elegantly, as silk would have. As it catches at my wide hips, Connor uses both hands to push the garment down and his thumbs hook my underwear, tugging it along with the fabric.
Completely bared, my nipples pebble and I struggle to inhale as I stare straight ahead at the roaring fire. The flames lick and hiss while Connor takes his time, barely touching me, but exposing me exactly how he wishes.
My body isn’t what it used to be and as his hand splays against my stomach, my eyes close with worry, but his hum of satisfaction spreads a new sensation through me. He nips the lobe of my ear and a gasp is forced from me.
As my breathing picks up, his hand lowers and his chest hits my back.
His fingers slip down to my sensitive clit. He takes his time, toying with me until my body buckles forward. His forearm braces me against him and he tsks.
“You’ll stay still as I play with you,” he tells me, his tone holding a note of warning. His hardened length presses into my backside through his jeans. His hard body demands that I take it.
My hand, though, acts on its own accordingly, grabbing his wrist as his hand moves lower still to my slit.
His body stills and the air changes. I can barely breathe knowing what I’ve done. I’ve stopped him, I’ve deliberately disobeyed.