Page 85 of Craving Venom (The Venomous Beauty Trilogy #1)

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

I don’t need a name.

I know it’s him.

I let it buzz once more before I flip the screen over, face-down.

He can wait. I’m seeing him in an hour anyway.

I pull off the hoodie slowly and set it aside. The white dress waits on my desk, and I step into it without a bra or panties because there’s no space for modesty in something this bare, this sinful. They’d only ruin the way it clings.

The silk glides over my skin, it’s cool at first. Then warm as it clings to every part of me. My tits press against the fabric and my nipples harden beneath the slip. The slit flutters at my thighs when I move.

I walk to the mirror and swipe a gloss stick across my lips.

I’m fixing my hair when I feel a breath in the air that isn’t mine. I look up. Zane’s leaning against the doorframe, watching me.

“You’re early,” I whisper.

“You’re holy.”

His eyes drag over my body like a sin he plans to confess later just to relive it in detail.

“I’m convinced heaven made one mistake.”

My chest tightens. “What?”

He steps forward.

“You.”

I stare at him through the reflection.

“You should’ve stayed up there,” he says. “Whatever god sculpted that body didn’t build it for Earth.”

I turn, facing him fully now.

I arch a brow. “Careful, there. You don’t believe in gods and goddesses.”

“I didn’t.” He steps forward and wraps a hand around my waist, dragging me against his chest. “Not until I found my heaven in one.”

“You’re blaspheming.”

He leans in until his breath skates across my shoulder.

“I’d burn down churches for the chance to watch you come on my tongue. How’s that for blasphemy?”

His palm curves down to my thigh, brushing just under the hem of the dress. Just enough for his knuckles to brush the inside of my leg.

I grab the vanity for balance.

“Zane—”

“I might not be a religious man, but I’d make gods and devils alike kneel at your feet.”

He bends down until his lips barely graze the curve of my neck, but I press a hand flat to his chest, and he stops.

I don’t push him away yet. Instead, I brush my lips to the edge of his jaw. My fingers slide along the buttons of his shirt, teasing open the top one and ghost my mouth to his ear.

“And would you, Zane?” I pause, letting my breath pour over the shell of it. “Would you kneel at my feet?”

The weight of him is still hovering over my skin, but now it feels different. Like I just put a blade between us and dared him to lean in.

“Baby, I’ll kneel.” His cock is hard beneath his trousers, pressing against the front of him as if it’s trying to answer for him. “Then I’ll drag my mouth up your thighs and pray into your cunt.”

A shiver rips down my spine.

But I don’t let him see it, I push against his chest, and he stumbles one step, not because he’s off balance, but because he lets himself be moved. His pupils flare. His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile.

I turn away from him.

The sharp click of my heels grows louder with every step I take toward the armchair by the window. My pussy still aches from the last time he was inside me, but that doesn’t stop me from walking like I’m untouchable.

I sit in the armchair near the window, the moonlight catching the hem of the silk as it drapes over my thighs.

I meet his eyes as I incline toward my heels and slide my fingers over the strap of one heel, then the other.

I undo them slowly, steadying myself with one hand on the chair while the other teases each buckle loose.

Then, with a breath that’s more challenge than invitation, I cross one leg over the other, letting the dress slip high enough to show the curve of my inner thigh, just shy of the place he wants most.

Zane doesn’t move.

He’s watching me like I’m not real.

Like I’m the hallucination he’d kill to touch.

“Well?”

He licks his lips as his fists flex at his sides.

I trace a lazy circle on my knee with one fingertip.

Zane takes a step forward and he almost stumbles. It’s the tiniest misstep, but I catch it. Anyone else would’ve missed it. If the men hunting him saw him right now, they’d be too stunned to draw their guns. They’d turn around. They’d walk away, not out of fear, but out of confusion.

Because the man standing in front of me right now looks nothing like the monster who’s terrorized an entire country.

His fists flex at his sides. His breathing is uneven. And still, he moves closer.

His eyes stay on mine as he lowers himself onto one knee. His body moves with restraint and reverence as though he’s bowing to something far more dangerous than any war he’s ever fought.

Zane’s palm glides along my calf. His thumb strokes upward, trailing over the tender crease behind my knee, then higher, toward the soft flesh of my inner thigh where the silk parts easily for him.

I exhale shakily as his hands shift, coaxing my legs open a little wider. He leans in. This time, instead of bowing his head, he brings his mouth directly to my skin and presses a kiss to the inside of my knee.

My back arches with a sharp breath. One hand grips the armrest, the other trembling in my lap, as the silk drapes across my peaked nipples and the pulse in my clit throbs harder.

He lowers his head farther, trailing his lips down. He starts pressing hot and open-mouthed kisses. His tongue swipes across the ridge of my shin as his hands fall to the buckle of my heel.

I watch him fasten it with careful fingers and then lowers his head to graze his lips against the top of my foot once he’s done.

And for a second I feel the power .

His submission isn’t weak.

It’s euphoric.

And it belongs to me.

I remove my foot from his thigh.

He stays low, already reaching for the other foot. His hand rises to cradle my ankle again, but before he can kiss or tie or worship, I lift my heel and press it flat against his chest.

The pressure of my foot isn’t rough, but it’s deliberate. The point of the heel catches the curve of his pec, and when I press harder, he goes down onto his forearms.

His cock strains visibly through his dress pants. I don’t miss how his jaw ticks, how his lips part around a shallow breath when I drag my heel ever so slightly up his chest until it reaches his throat.

He makes a sound that makes my tits tighten under the silk and my nipples throb like they’re begging to be sucked.

Then I lower my foot. Not out of mercy.

Out of curiosity.

Zane doesn’t move until I nod once. His fingers brush up my ankle again and I let him get close. Let him think he’s about to win that privilege again.

I press the heel of my unstrapped foot against his chest. I push harder until he’s forced to lie on his back. My hair falls forward as I bend. It curtains around both our faces. I drag the leather strap through the buckle slowly.

His tongue flicks out to lick the edge of his bottom lip. He watches me fasten it. Watches me do what he was about to.

I finish the buckle with a final tug, letting my fingers linger on the soft leather before brushing over the sharp bone of my ankle. I start to straighten until his hands clamp around my wrists.

In one violent motion, he yanks me forward. The chair jerks with a screech and topples backward, crashing hard against the floor.

I crash into his chest, the wind knocked out of me as the world flips upside down.

Zane rolls, flipping us in one brutal, seamless motion until he’s on top of me and his forearms are caging me in.

His thighs press firmly against the sides of mine, holding me in place as his cock grinds into my center with unapologetic friction.

“Tell me,” he growls, low and rough and cruel in the most devastating way. “How did it feel to have the world’s most wanted criminal at your feet?”

My lips part. My chest heaves. I should be afraid—I am afraid—but I lift my chin anyway.

“Indestructible,” I breathe.

And I fucking mean it.

His wolfish smile widens. It stretches across his face like he’s just tasted something forbidden and liked it too much to stop. He doesn’t kiss me. Doesn’t say a word. Just drinks me in.

Then, just as suddenly, his weight disappears from my body as he rises in one fluid motion. His hand closes around mine and pulls me up with him. My legs are shaky, my breath still uneven, but I don’t stumble.

His fingers brush over the creases of my dress, smoothing them. Then he looks me dead in the eyes.

“Ready to go?”

It’s not really a question.

“Yeah.”

And just like that, we walk out the door.