Page 25 of Captive Audience

With no idea of what I trulyasked, Asha nodded.

I knew this was wrong. I knew I shouldn’t be fucking the woman I’d been stalking for over a year, especially with what I had planned for her. But Christ almighty, she’d offered herself to me. How was I supposed to turn her down? A saint would’ve jumped at the opportunity to take her to bed, and I was as far from honorable as you could get.

The only problem? Having this taste of her, knowing how good she felt in my arms and on my cock, would be bittersweet.

I wanted her naked and moaning in my bed for much longer than one night.

I wanted her to continue looking at me like I’d hung the fucking moon.

I wanted her to keep needing me like this, warm and open and mine.

But she was already slipping through my fingers like blood in water. Once Asha knew who I was—whatI was—there’d be no coming back. And when she found out my plans, she’d hate me with every fiber of her being.

I didn’t want that, but the path to justice was never clean, and Asha was a necessary casualty.

I drove inside her, forcing her up the bed with every thrust. Asha’s breath hitched, and her body clenched around mine. Her release was all it took. I came hard, buried deep, her name caught in my throat.

For a few seconds, the world went quiet. No blood, no ghosts, no vengeance.

Just her.

And as the rush faded, I knew I’d crossed a line I could never uncross.

15

ASHA

I’d never had sex so many times in one night.

On the bed, in the shower, spread out on the kitchen counter, even pressed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, which Rook assured me were coated in some high-tech privacy film to keep prying eyes out.

I had carpet burn on my knees, stubble rash on my neck, and a trophy collection of bruises that would serve as a long-lasting reminder of this incredible night.

My poor kitty had taken a delicious pounding. I’d need a long, hot bath and days for my muscles to recover, but I hadn’t felt this content in forever.

Wearing one of Rook’s white button-down shirts with the sleeves rolled up, I let him lead me to the kitchen, where he pulled out a stool from the breakfast bar and gestured for me to sit.

Pretty sure those smudges on the massive slab of polished black stone were from our earlier escapades.

I sipped on the bottle of water he handed me and looked toward the wall of windows overlooking the city. In the east, a purple-and-gold hue lightened the horizon. At a guess, it was just after five a.m.

Standing opposite me, a shirtless Rook leaned forward and braced his palms on the counter, which made every muscle in his tattooed arms tighten. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“I can whip us up some eggs and toast.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can just get my things and go.”

He laughed. “You’re mad if you think I’m not making you breakfast.”

“Can I at least help?”

“Sure.”

I rounded the counter while he gathered ingredients from a refrigerator hidden behind custom cabinetry.

Rook placed eggs, butter, and bread on the counter. “How are you feeling?”