Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
It was obvious she was having a sex dream, and although she was no longer intoxicated, I slipped out of bed rather than slipping my hand between her legs like I really wanted to.
And I need to walk away again now before it’s too late and I ruin her.
The way she said my name… fuck.
She moaned it not once. Not twice. Over and over again, like the begs she was desperate for me to answer last night had nothing to do with alcohol.
Every time she whimpered, my resolve cracked more.
I grip the vanity sink, knuckles white. “Get in the fucking shower,” I mutter to myself again. “Walk away.”
I don’t move because the truth is stronger than me. I’m not protecting myself. I’m trying to protect her. I’m the bad seed of the family, the rotten roots that eventually kill everything from the inside out. If you side with me, you side with the devil. I can’t put it any simpler than that.
Someone as angelic as Azra doesn’t belong in the ashes of hell.
She has no idea what she’s doing or what she’s asking for.
I am not a man she should tie herself to.
She thinks there’s good beneath the surface of my evil.
She’s wrong.
Evil resides in my veins. It lives in me.
I close my eyes, and her voice echoes again—soft, breathy, and half-asleep.
Matteo…
It thickens my cock as fast as it did last night when she traced the outline of her delicious-smelling cunt with her fingers. Her pussy is the prettiest I’ve seen, but her face in ecstasy trumps everything. Her cheeks darken, her lips slightly part, and her eyes glaze over with more than lust.
She comes alive.
I shouldn’t have the honor of seeing that. I’ve done things—dark things—that stain a man from the inside out. Things that make people cross the street when they see me coming and make mothers pull their children closer.
I’ve spent my whole life carving out a place in the underworld where mercy gets you killed and hesitation gets the people you love killed.
My mother’s untimely death is the clearest proof of this.
Doctors say you can’t die from a broken heart, but they mention nothing about disappointment being the biggest killer.
I pushed against the ropes for years, and although she ended every sentence with three words I’ve never heard from another woman, I know my antics hurt her.
She was bright where I was dark. Soft where I was jagged. Hopeful where I was hollow.
She didn’t belong in my world—just like Azra doesn’t either.
Pushing off the sink, I pace the bathroom. My hand freezes halfway through my hair when I hear Azra’s breathing from the bedroom. It’s light and uneven, wordlessly announcing she’s still dreaming about someone she shouldn’t be.
She’s dreaming about me.
Against the screaming protests of my head, I step into the bedroom doorway and prop my shoulder against the frame. Azra is curled on her side. Her hair spills across the pillow, and her lips part as she murmurs something I can’t make out.
Then…
“Matteo…”
My chest tightens as pre-cum leaks into my boxer shorts.
I should put distance between us before I make a mistake I can’t undo.
Instead, I inch closer to her bedside.
Hearing her say my name like that—soft and unguarded—unravels me.
I whisper into the dark, voice rough. “Do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing to me, micina? How crazy you are making me?”
She moans as if she hears me before her head thrusts back and her swollen lips part to suck in desperate breaths. Her nipples pucker against the bra I silently prayed for her to remove last night, and I reach out my hand, too overwhelmed to remember I’ve never touched without consent before.
Karma scalds me for a previous mistake before I can make another.
The phone I put on the nightstand last night buzzes with a reminder that Azra isn’t my personal plaything. She’s heating my sheets because she wants to marry another man.
I stare at the glowing reminder until it fades, leaving the room darker than before. Then I enter the bathroom faster than I exited it.
The shower did nothing to clear my head. My blood remains as hot as lava, and my cock is as firm as a baseball bat. I refuse to pretend that what I almost did last night doesn’t matter, so I didn’t let myself ease the tension with a quick, unsatisfying shower stroke.
I leave the bathroom with a towel slung low around my hips and water dripping down my back. Even with the early-morning light slipping through the curtains, the room is dim.
Azra is awake.
Restlessness weighs heavily in her eyes, and her hair is tangled. She doesn’t look as vulnerable as the woman I imagined while ignoring the throbbing of my cock, which told me the next week might be easier for everyone if I let go of the tension. She doesn’t look violated. She looks human. Real.