Her soft moan fueled the fire burning deep within.
“And make no mistake. From the day I met you, you were mine.” I captured her mouth, enjoying the quiver of her body as sheleaned into me. I’d been waiting for half my life it seemed to make that statement. Now that I had, there was no chance at retracting either the words or the meaning.
She was mine.
With the kiss broken seconds later, she pressed her fingers across her lips, the flash in her gorgeous eyes keeping my attention. With another quick look, she headed inside.
Everything about her unsettled me. I never lost control, certainly with a woman. I’d remained alive based on order and discipline, but I’d tossed it all aside by laying claim to her. Ridiculous. Damning. Yet the need to possess her, to own every touch, every kiss and breath had consumed me for far too long. The dam had simply broken and there was nothing I could do about it.
Nor did I want to.
When she was gone, I was faced with an odd loneliness. As if she’d placed her trust in me and I’d failed her.
Suddenly, I didn’t like myself very much any longer.
Instead?
I felt a little like the stalker she acted as if she was protecting.
However, everything about her was intoxicating. Her fire. Her resolve. Her hunger.
And her desire to let go.
Maybe in a way I’d made a deal with the devil.
Was being with her, owning her worth spending all eternity in hell?
Without a doubt.
CHAPTER 17
Emmeline
The quiet intensity of Donatello’s voice had shocked me more than anything he could do or statement he could make.
His stance on his full domination of me was more of a surprise than I’d believed possible. In just walking away, I’d felt in a daze, incapable of thinking clearly. I touched my face, shaking visibly from the memory of how he’d mapped my features. How many times had I found him staring at me in the past, yet every time he’d done so while in Rio, the memorization had been all about something else.
Now I knew what that was.
About owning me. Not just simple possession for a night or even a week away from everything and everyone we knew, but an obsessive desire to keep me forever.
Passion came in many forms from sharing food and laughter, good times shared with friends to intense conversation. I’d had years of all of those with Donatello. While I’d never want toconsider them overrated as they weren’t, after sharing a night of raw and powerful sex with the man, I hungered for that more than the others combined.
Oh, we’d return to those later.
But for now, the heat of the moment was all about the wild hunger we both felt, insatiable and unbridled.
What we’d shared had not just crossed some invisible line. The intimacy had obliterated any concept of returning to normal. What we were sharing wasn’t just about desire. It was about much more, something darker and more consuming.
And his statement had excited me more than anything any man could ever say to me.
He didn’t waste any time, joining me in the bathroom mere moments after I’d closed the shower door. I backed against the tile, studying him through the frosted glass as he removed his clothes.
There was no pretense or hesitation on his part. I’d not only toyed with his emotions for years, I’d also challenged his authority.
He wasn’t the kind of man to take either lightly.
When he threw open the door, the look on his face was positively carnal. I feared the glass shattering from the force he used to close the door behind him. For me, being able to study a man’s exquisite features was as powerful as everything else. Especially with this man.