Page 53

Stupid.I shake off the thought. I shouldn't be pining for my captor to be hanging out with me.

I give up on trying to relax in the courtyard, gathering up my book and retreating to the guest room. I drop everything on the dresser and collapse onto the bed. I'm too worked up, my mind too loud, and I can't stop wondering where Sam is.

I also can't stop thinking about the way he touched me. Shame flames my skin when I remember how I begged him to turn off my mind. He asked me if I was sure, hesitating before he pulled off my clothes and crawled between my legs…

Why am I even thinking about him? This is ridiculous. Sam Costello is a murderer, a criminal, a man who kidnapped me and is holding me hostage in his mansion.

A devastatingly handsome, unexpectedly sweet murderer with eyes that see right through me and a mouth that gave me the best orgasm of my life.

Staring at the ornate ceiling, the memory of his hands, strong and confident, flashes through my mind. The way he softly tucked my hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my cheek. Him pinning me to the staircase wall, his breath skating over myskin. The way he slid my jeans over my legs and feasted on my pussy like it was his last meal.

"Stop it," I mutter to myself, but my body isn't listening.

Heat spreads across my skin as I remember how he carried me to my bed, holding me in his strong arms. He really saw me, not with pity, but with understanding. Like he knew exactly what it felt like to carry that kind of pain.

Suddenly, I'm too warm. My jeans feel restrictive against my skin. I close my eyes, trying to think of anything else, but all I see is Sam's face. The intensity of his gaze when he focuses on me. The way his lips curve slightly at the corners when he's amused.

My breath quickens. I press my thighs together, trying to ignore the ache building between them.

This is insane. I shouldn't be attracted to him. He's dangerous. He's a Costello.

But I can't stop imagining his hands on my body, his lips against my neck. Those capable fingers that know exactly how to touch me.

A small sound escapes my throat: part frustration, part desire.

I press my palms against my eyes. My skin is flushed and sensitive, and the room feels ten degrees hotter than it did five minutes ago.

"This is ridiculous," I whisper, but my hand slides down my stomach anyway.

I shouldn't want this. Shouldn't crave the release that I know will come with thoughts of him. But my fingers are already unbuttoning my jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly.

I lift my hips to push my jeans down my thighs. The cool air hits my skin, making me shiver. I close my eyes, trying one last time to think of anything else, anyone else, but it's useless.

My fingers slip beneath the elastic of my underwear. I'm already wet, embarrassingly so. A small gasp escapes my lips as Itouch myself, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves that makes my back arch slightly off the bed.

In my mind, it's Sam's fingers. Sam's touch. His dark eyes watching me come undone.

"God," I breathe, circling my clit with slow, deliberate movements. Heat builds low in my belly, spreading outward. My free hand moves under my shirt, cupping my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple through the thin fabric of my bra.

I imagine his weight on top of me, his lips on my neck, whispering things that would make me blush in the light of day. The fantasy is so vivid, I can almost feel his breath against my skin.

My movements quicken, the pressure building. I bite my lip to keep from making noise, though part of me wonders what would happen if he heard me. If he arrived back at the mansion just in time to walk in and see me like this, flushed and wanting.

Would he join? Use his hand, tongue, or cock to make blind with pleasure?

The thought sends me over the edge. My body tenses, ecstasy washing over me in waves as I come with his name caught in my throat.

THIRTY-ONE

Sam

Donnie pulls into the driveway of my estate, the engine’s purr fading as he kills the ignition. The day weighs heavily on my shoulders — the Serpents struck back, killing one of my enforcers at Saints and Sinners. Their gunshots scared the shit out of the girls, and we had to kick out all of the patrons, bribing them with cash to keep the cops away.

I left Adrian and Naz to clean up the mess after I made sure the girls were okay. The pair is becoming quite the team after they worked together to help get me released. Naz learned a lot from Leo De Santis during his time in New York, and now he's become one of my top men since he's been back.

Before I left, John and I came up with a plan to retaliate and make sure this time our message was clear as day: retreat to your swamp and stay there.

There's a headache forming at my temples, and all I want is a hot shower and silence. The kind of silence that drowns out all the noise that's still ringing in my ears. Maybe a stiff drink too.