Luck of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #2)(16)

Her inner walls flutter and clamp down as tears stream from Indy’s closed eyes. I want to see them, even with the darkness almost completely shadowing the light.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes open, and with our gazes locked, I pound into her over and over, fucking her as if everything depends on this being the best goddamned night of her life.

And maybe it does.

This is the one thing I can give her without holding anything back. All of me for all of her.

Her lids flutter, like she wants to close them, but I find her clit and press down. Detonation.

“Yes! Jericho! Yes!”

My orgasm pours out of me as soon as she says my name.





15





India





As sleep fades away, my body feels heavy, like it’s weighed down by a truckload of cement. I try to lift my arm, but it’s pinned beneath an immovable object.

I open my eyes, but the room is pitch black. The only sound is the quiet breathing of the man beside me. The one whose entire body is wrapped around mine.

Forge. Or Jericho, as I called him last night as he wrenched more pleasure from my body than I’ve ever experienced.

As much as I want to say it was all the drugs, I know it’s a lie. Sure, they might heighten the experience, but nothing can make a bad lover into an incredible one.

Forge is more than incredible, and that can’t just be my limited scale of experience doing the measuring. He strikes me as a man ruthless in every aspect—especially when it comes to pleasing his partner in bed.

And you’ve got to stop being all dick-struck, Indy. It’s morning, and the reality check hits me hard, even as my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

I tug my arm out from under Forge and roll over to see a bottle of water on the nightstand. Thank you, Lord. But I know it’s not the Lord I need to be thanking.

With quiet and careful movements, I roll out of bed, hoping like hell I don’t wake the sleeping beast. I need a shower, food, and to get my feet firmly under me before I’m ready for the confrontation that’s coming.

I take the water bottle into the shower and try not to think about how I lost every single hint of inhibition last night and taunted him into joining me. Hot shame flushes my cheeks, and I hop into the enclosure for a completely different reason—to wash away the memories.

It only takes a burst of cold water to wake me up.

“Shit!” I dart out of the freezing needles and slap at the taps to turn it warmer.

After a minute, I step back under the spray. My hair is a giant knot of a mess, and I grab the shampoo off the niche built into the tile and attempt to scrub it clean. Conditioner helps even more. Thankfully, the knot on my temple has gone down and no longer aches.

I rush through the process, not wanting an audience this morning, but when I turn off the water and spin around to reach for the door handle, Forge is already waiting.

Once again, he has a robe in his hands, and he’s watching me intently.

With heat racing up my cheeks, I reach out to snatch the robe out of his grip. Using it to cover my body, I spin around and shove my soaking-wet arms into the sleeves, fighting as they get stuck.

Forge waits in silence as my emotions crush the walls I boxed them in with last night. Humiliation, betrayal, and anger rise as one like a phoenix from the ashes.

“I want a divorce.” The words are out of my mouth before I even realized that’s what I planned to say, but Forge’s stoic face is unreadable. “Did you hear me? I said I want a divorce.”

Nothing. Not a hint of reaction. I wait for a response, but when nothing comes, I nod.

“Good talk. Glad that’s done and we’re on the same page.” I sweep around him like I haven’t a care in the world.

Forge’s hand snaps out and wraps around my upper arm. “We’re not done.”

“Yes, we are. You lied to me. Played me. Tricked me. Whatever the hell you want to call it—and I’m done. Out. Finished. Go fuck yourself and play your games with someone else.”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

My mouth drops open at his statement. “You had my sister kidnapped and then promised to rescue her if I married you! How is that not a lie?”

Forge’s implacable expression hardens to stone. “De Vere is full of shit. I didn’t have a fucking thing to do with your sister’s kidnapping. You can think I’m the scum of the goddamned earth, but there are lines I refuse to cross. Hurting an innocent for my own gain is one of them.”

I jerk my arm, trying to pull it from his grasp, but it’s immovable. “What about me? I don’t count as an innocent you hurt for your own gain?”

Forge releases his grip on me like I’ve suddenly burst into flames. “Did you, or did you not, bargain with me to secure your sister’s freedom?”

I cross my arms over my chest and grit my teeth. “You already had a plan to get her back before I did! The timing is bullshit, Forge. Tell me you didn’t know she’d been kidnapped when I told you. Tell me you didn’t already have a rescue plan in place. I dare you to lie to my fucking face.”

For long moments, I don’t think he’ll reply, but he finally does.

“I knew she’d been kidnapped before I left for Monte Carlo.”

My jaw drops further at his admission. “See? You lied to me!”