Brutally Beautiful(25)

The thought made me dizzy with want.

Dinner was deplorable. Not only was the food absolutely unnaturally the most delicious thing I had ever eaten, I could not stop myself from staring at Lainey’s mouth the entire time she ate. The pure shade of pink was the natural hue of her lips. The full flesh of them as they pressed against her glass of wine. I tried to focus on a figurine that was sitting alone on one of the shelves. It was a sculpture of a human brain. Who the hell would keep that in their home? The need to walk over to it and crush it in my hands was so strong that I could taste the dust of the ceramic pieces as they floated past my own lips in my mind.

Lainey’s green eyes kept meeting mine. Each time, her eyes would narrow and hold my stare. She didn’t fear me, didn’t back down. She was a complete contradiction to anyone I had ever met before. I smirked to myself thinking of her underneath me, the smooth skin of her legs wrapped around me, the burn of her nails as she clawed them down my back. Climbing over my body, riding me deep and fast, until my body convulsed inside her.

My hand gripped my fork so firmly against the plate it bent at an awkward angle. Fuck. How was I going to explain that?

Lainey gently pushed her chair back from the table and dabbed a napkin to her lips, “Anyone need more wine?” she asked, walking into the kitchen area, swaying her hips so sensually it could have killed me. Maybe it did, maybe it did kill me and this was my hell. My brain fogged up, hearing everyone around the dinner table talking but not being able to understand a word of it. My focus was completely concentrated on Lainey’s subtle movements as she went about pouring more wine. With her back to her guests, she filled her goblet and pressed the edge of it against her lips, sipping softly. Placing her glass back down, she reached up and swept all of her thick dark hair into a wild sexy bun at the nape of her neck. I was drowning, lost in a twisted sea of darkness.

The smooth creamy curve of her neck against her dark skin made me clench my fists tighter, almost snapping the damn fork in half.

Jesus H. Christ, what the hell is wrong with me?

Then the darkness of her hair slipped over her shoulder as she turned her head, laughing at something somebody had said. And there, against the nape of her neck, hidden beneath the tumble of her hair was a dark tattoo. Give me your hurt. The tattoo above the elegant dress, against her ivory skin was an erotic mix of good and bad, heaven and hell, and I wondered what her story truly was. How had she come here? Why? Who hurt her? What was she running from? And, why the hell do I care?

I wanted to hate her, break her, and keep her the hell away from my sick, twisted mind. But, there was no point in lying to myself, was there? Because I wanted a taste of her even more. I wanted her.

I didn’t like not being in control. That wasn’t me. I needed out of here.

I grabbed Morgan’s hand and yanked her up from the chair she was sitting on, still eating, apparently. She gave a little choked yelp as I tugged her to the door. “Well, thank you for a lovely evening. We have to be off now. Happy f*cking birthday.” I slammed the ridiculous excuse for a door behind me and walked through the icy night to my truck.

“Finally,” Morgan breathed behind me, her hands reaching out to grab mine. “I can’t believe we had to sit through that.”

Ignoring her, I clicked open the locks on the truck, opened the driver’s side door and shoved her in past the steering wheel climbing in after her. Ramming the key in the ignition, I blasted the heat and grabbed for her waist, placing her on my lap, her dress hiked up to her bare thighs as they straddled mine. “Don’t talk, unless you’re telling me how hard to f*ck you.”