Brutally raw with unbridled desire…. And something else.
Something far more unsettling.
Obsession.
I know because it coursed through my own veins as I studied every inch of him. His dark hair was wild, a little long around his ears and in the back as if it was as reckless and chaotic as the man himself. Onyx eyes as black as midnight and as cold as the darkest winter night followed me every step I took. Every drink I sipped. Every cigarette I wrapped my lips around.
He was like a silent predator, stalking with beauty and grace and then devouring with the appetite of an entire pack.
He saved me that night from Troy Davis. I know he did. I can’t prove it. I can’t remember it. But he did. And then he marked me.
As if pulled by a magnetic force, my fingers trail down my dress, between my breasts, down my stomach, and hover just inside of my hip. I trace the still tender S with the tip of my finger. Over and over, I trace the brand he gave me, each pass hardening my nipples to stiff peaks.
I wonder if he’s outside this window watching me right now?
“What game are you playing, Sam Colton?” I muse, imagining him standing in the parking lot looking up at me through the window.
When the mouse strays, she gets punished.
Maybe in another lifetime, yes, but in two hours, I’ll be on a plane to Mexico. Our cat and mouse game is over. There will be no punishment… No begging… No hunt…
I’ll never see him again. He’ll never see me again.
Unless I let him see me now.
I don’t know what possesses me to unbutton the first button at the top of my dress, but the moment I do, a rush of heat pools between my legs so unbearably strong, I can’t control myself. I unbutton another…and another…and another…until the entire thing is barely hanging onto my shoulders. I can’t see anything outside the window. It’s too dark, but I feel him. He’s out there watching…waiting.
What I’m doing is dangerous. Tito could have left with Santi, or he could be standing guard right outside cataloging my every move. As my brother’s right-hand man, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus.
Electricity sizzles down my spine at the thought of both men watching. One there to protect my purity, the other there to destroy it.
This is what being a Carrera means. Playing with fire. Balancing on the thin wires tracing my name. Risking the fall just to satiate an innate need to shatter society’s perfect ideals.
If I’m going to be convicted, I might as well commit the crime.
My fingers travel up my arm and curl around the strap resting on my shoulder. I’m lightheaded as it slides down my skin, ashamed of my own wantonness, but too far gone to stop. Trailing my hand across my chest, I reach for the strap clinging to my other shoulder, when the faint sound of my phone ringing catches my attention.
Turning, I stare across the room at the cell phone lying face down on the floor by my purse, and my stomach clenches.
I don’t have to look to know it’s Tito. He’s seen me, no doubt calling to warn me of my brother’s impending wrath.
My heavy footsteps carry me across the room, where I pick up my phone, my indiscretion searing the metal into my palm. The screen is blank, save two words.
Unknown Caller.
Of course. My family uses burner phones. Always helpful when avoiding the DEA. Sighing, I hit the accept button. “Tito, come on… I’m already in enough shit. Can we just keep this between—”
A rough breath hisses through the line, licking my ear with its forbidden tongue.
“Tito?”
He doesn’t answer, but the breathing grows heavier…lethal…more insistent. There’s an underlying growl hidden in the silence that ignites my skin.
Sam…
It’s him. I don’t know how I know; I just do. Closing my eyes, I imagine that onyx gaze following my every move as that wicked tongue wets his lips.
“Can you see me, Sam?” I whisper. “Do you want to see your creation?”
Wandering back to the window, I stare into the pitch-black night and push first one, then both straps of my dress off my shoulders. Emboldened by lust, I don’t flinch as the material slips past my waist and pools at my feet. I’m standing in front of my second-floor window in a black lacy bra and thong, breathing as heavily as if he were standing behind me, his lips brushing my neck.
Slowly, I run my fingers along the S puckering my skin, a strange pride filling my chest. “What does this mean?” I ask, placing a hand against the glass. “Am I marked for death? Or am I marked for you?”
As if in response, a bright orange glow ignites in the hazy dark, and then just as quickly, disappears. Startled, I take a few steps back, common sense trying to force its way through whatever wicked spell I’m under.
However, instead of getting dressed as any sane person would do, I lick my lips. “Sam…?” I call out, testing him by slowly dragging a bra strap down my shoulder. “Do you like what you see? Do you want me? Or do you just like to watch?”
The image in my head returns, bringing with it an insatiable ache between my legs. As if commanded, I slide my other strap down, teasing a nipple through the thin lace of my bra. “Did you see me with Alex tonight? What would you have done if I’d let him touch me?” I’m growing delirious with lust, my pussy throbbing at the thought of my father’s enemy watching me…hearing me… “Would you have stopped me? Would you have killed him for it? Do you want to punish me, Sam?”
Fuck, I can’t take it anymore. I slip my hand into my
