Page 101 of The Ruthless Note

The kiss is a step over the line. An ending of something precious. A tearing apart of the old rules. It feels… final. Monumental. Like the kiss between the princess and the prince at the end of a movie.

Except this is not the happily-ever-after princess crap that Vi still watches when she needs a pick-me-up. No, this is the kiss between the villains. Two natural disasters meeting in a cataclysmic force of destruction.

Dutch’s hands slide under my shirt, his hot, heavy palms gathering me closer to his body. He’s kissing me deeply. Moments turning into eternity.

Heat sizzles between our moving lips as I arch my back and press into him.

I can feel him through the dark navy pants he has on and there’s no denying what he wants from me.

So why isn’t he…

I’m not going to take it. You’re going to give it to me.

His words echo through my head and rip me out of the moment. I pull back, but Dutch has a hold on me. His grip doesn’t loosen from my waist. His amber eyes, dark with lust and victory, bore into me.

He leans forward, his lips brushing mine when he says, “Told you.”

My heart is pounding, but I don’t hit him the way he deserves. Mainly because my limbs are putty and I don’t think I could make the swing.

His skilled fingers slide up to my bottom lip and swipe. “You want me, Brahms.”

I blink rapidly, struggling to return to my senses.

He’s still touching me. One of his thumbs is rubbing circles right under my bra. Making it hard to think straight or to move. Making it impossible to catch my breath.

I answer on reflex. “I despise you. What part of that isn’t clear?”

A brief smile breaks out on his face. He lets loose a chuckle that promises I’ll hate every word that comes out of his mouth next. “That kiss said something different.”

Damn. I can’t deny that I kissed him back. There’s no running from the facts.

I harden my expression and look up at him. “I’m curious, Dutch. Who were you kissing just now? Was it me or was it your precious ‘Redhead’?”

Maybe if I remind him of my duplicity, he’ll weaken. Maybe it’ll give me the upper hand.

But Dutch doesn’t even blink.

“Can’t it be both?” he whispers in my ear.

His tone makes me shiver.

“I want you both and, since you’re the same person, it works out for me.”

“You’re insane.”

“And you’re as drawn to me as I am to you, Brahms. Neither of us want it. Neither of us can control it. So how about we stop trying?” His words curl around me, as tangible as a caress. Exquisite torture. He touches a tendril of my hair. “Once.” It’s like he’s talking to himself. Trying to convince himself. “I’ll take you once and get you out of my system.”

Get me out of his system?“Like what? Like I’m a cold?”

He shrugs.

So frigid.

So calloused.

A Cross Brother to the bone.

Dutch releases me suddenly. And I realize this was never about anything more than him exerting control. Showing me another lesson. Showing me that I belong to him.