Page 44 of Cain

I grab her chin gently, enjoying the way her nostrils flare stronger by the second, and her chest moves up and down faster. She doesn’t draw back, nor does she resist.

Her skin is soft beneath my fingertips. Her long lashes flutter as her breath quivers against my lips.

This is one more time that I want to grab her face and fuck her lips violently just because she dares to defy me. Just because she dares to be so fucking perfect that my mind can’t even comprehend it. Because now she’s perfect—now that she breaks and reveals her fiery, defiant side. Now that she’s finding the courage to seize life and slowly take control of her choices.

Every single glance or thought becomes one more obsession for me. One more reason for my mind to race is imagining things that most people can’t even fathom doing to others. Every time I smell her, see her, or touch her—hell, every time I am around her—her presence consumes my mind and numbs it.

I should bend her over and ram into her.

But instead, I decided to tease and infuriate her a bit more, making things funnier.

I blow the smoke in her face, causing it to scrunch with loathing and disgust.

“Fuck you! I hate you!” she squeals.

“You need to rest.”

“I need to kill you!”

“Get in line, little rose.”

I turn on my heel and leave her room, closing the door behind me. She’s cursing me in Czech, causing me to chuckle in amusement. This woman is something else.

But enough entertainment for today.

I walk into my office and take a seat in the comfortable black leather chair. I wish I could stay in it for a while without doing anything, but the world is moving, and I’ve got business to attend to. I light up one more smoke and dial Landon’s number.

After only two seconds, he picks it up.

“Yes, boss.”

“My office. Now.”

I hang up and lean back in the chair, dragging the smoke deep into my lungs.

I snatch the Rubik’s Cube from the edge of my desk and begin twisting it instinctively, my fingers moving without a thought.

I must admit that she has me thinking. I thought that she wasn’t a material woman. I believed that she didn’t need such things as cosmetics or hair devices. Perhaps because she doesn’t actually need any of these, and she looks stunning even when wearing nothing or right after she wakes up. Or at least that’s how I see her. I guess that deep down, she is just a woman like all the others, and she needs a few material things to feel pretty.

Or maybe she’s trying to play me and pretend she needs them because she’s a spoilt brat. Though she’s not, I know it. On the contrary, she’s a woman who never had a word and always followed her parents’ will and commands.

In any case, I got my daily dose of her intoxicating presence. Of course, it’s not enough. It will never be. But for now, that’s okay.

Landon knocks on the door thrice—just like he always does—interrupting my thoughts.

“You called,boss.”

I don’t talk; I don’t want to cut short my so-longed-for seconds of peace this little buddy can provide just by keeping its smoke a bit longer inside my lungs. I merely gesture for him to sit across from me.

He does so, his usual smirk plastered on his face. This bastard looks more twisted by the years.

“What’s going on with the shipment to Puerto Rico?” I ash my cigarette into the crystal ashtray on my desk.

His expression softens. Busted, big boy.

“It’s a bit late. There was a storm?—”

“There’s always a storm.” I cut him off. “People died for that shipment.”