Page 122 of Stolen Temptation

His gaze becomes more molten. “You’re mine tonight, beautiful. Never forget that.”

And then he hooks his hands underneath my knees and pins them up above my waist. Just that one adjustment makes each of his strokes so much deeper.

He buries himself to the hilt and then makes love to me. Forceful, tender, a million things at once. All the while, his steady gaze pours into mine, potent as a shot of whiskey.

“I’m going to miss you, you know,” he murmurs in the dark, slapping his waist against mine and driving me crazy. “I don’t want to forget a single thing.”

I reach for him with both hands and pull his face down.

Hot, sloppy kisses mute the steady stream of moans slipping from my mouth.

I bite at his lip. “I’m going to miss you too.”

“Really?” A hint of surprise mixes into the lust and longing in Rory’s solemn eyes, his thrusting slowing down to a long, fluid pound instead of rapid-fire.

I nod vehemently. “Really.”

Something comes over him, and his voice drops out, his words replaced by an animalistic growl. He falls against me, releasing my knees after he starts to twitch, thrusting twice more.

Rory grouses in a language I don’t recognize. Is that Gaelic?

Whatever it is…it’s hot enough to tempt a nun into lifting her skirt.

Then, I start to feel it. His seed spilling inside me.

There’s something indescribably satisfying about it…Wow.

Panting, we cling to each other in the dark, knowing these are the last intimate moments we’ll ever spend together.

But the afterglow doesn’t last.

The unmistakable sound of the shop’s front door opening cuts into the night. Rory and I trade panicked glances before scrambling into our clothes as fast as we can.

Heart throbbing in my ears, I yank my shirt back on and wrench my jeans up and over my waist. Rory does the same, but the clink of his belt slapping against a nearby bookshelf causes us both to flinch and freeze.

A horrifyingly familiar voicetsks. “I always knew you were a whore like your mother.”

Appearing from the opposite end of our bookshelf row, a man claps his hands.

I’d know him anywhere.

Leonardo De Luca. The villain in my every nightmare.

Chapter 32

Kiara

Terror cracks through me, hot and deadly as lightning.

Rory steps in front of me, shielding me from Leo’s triumphant gaze.

“I wouldn’t do anything stupid if I were you.” The slimy, acidic words drip from Leo’s mouth.

Rory doesn’t listen. He shoves me farther behind him and reaches for his gun. “You’re going to fucking die?—”

A single gunshot echoes through the shop.

The awful squelch of metal ripping through flesh nearly keeps me from feeling the bullet as it whizzes past my ear andthunksinto the bookshelf behind me.