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Chapter Seven

Rafael

I grit my teeth as her hand grazes my thigh again. She’s telling me some insane story about working in a llama sanctuary, but all I can focus on is that touch.

The first time she touched me, electricity shot through my entire body like I’d been shocked. I’ve been trying to work out what that means for the last hour while masquerading as Dominic Wolf, screenplay extraordinaire.

She bites her lip, lifting her eyelashes, and gazes up at me. I drown in a tidal wave of ocean blue, internally gasping for air. Those fucking eyes are going to destroy me.

“And guess what happened?” she asks, excitement coloring her face. She’s getting to the punch line, so I play along.

“Based on everything you’ve told me so far, I can’t even begin to guess.”

“No, you can’t…” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Because the llama ran off with everyone’s underwear! We went commando for days before we found it all.”

I chuckle, flashing her the dimple I know makes her weak in the knees. Playfully, I swat her shoulder and even that small amount of contact sends shivers through me. Her warm smile radiates like a sunburn over me.

I realize I need my plan to work. Because honestly, if I can’t have her physically, I might need to make this a murder-suicide instead.

I remind myself of the game plan, reigning in my focus. Step one: seduction. Step two: relationship. Step three: destroy. Got it.

So, I turn up the charm, leaning in closer. My lips hover near her throat, and she gasps softly.

“You have the most beautiful smile,” I whisper in her ear. It takes all my strength to pull away from her when all I want to do is to bite down on her neck.

She places her hand against my chest lightly, and I almost have a heart attack. “So do you.”

The tension between us sizzles, snapping, sending sparks flying. I feel her breath against my neck and almost moan. I’ve never wanted anyone this bad.

Suddenly, she breaks the delicious electricity and pulls back. A playful look crosses her face and she reaches out to tickle my dimple.

“And you have the cutest dimple. Is it normal? To have just one? What happened to your other one?”

I genuinely laugh, settling back in my seat, trying to get my racing heart under control. I never expected a genuine laugh, but I also didn’t expect this to be quite so fun.

“Lost it in the war.”

“Ah yes, the Great Dimple War of 2009,” she says, a solemn look on her face. “That was a tough one.”

I wink at her, watching her rosy lips part, a fleeting look of lust painted across her face. Her cheeks are flushed even though she’s been sticking to water. Her golden hair hangs messily over her shoulders, begging to be pulled.

She’s going to be the most beautiful person I’ve ever killed.

That sadistic thought sobers me up and I change course, deciding to get more information from her. “So, you know I write screenplays. Tell me about your work.”

“It’s nothing exciting,” she sighs, taking a sip of her water. “I do some delivery work and bartend at a club. I also used to be a waitress but I got fired the other day.”

“Oh shit, what happened?”

“Ugh,” she says, slamming her glass down on the sticky bar. “It’s the weirdest story. Someone died at the cafe during my shift and my boss fired me for not reporting it.”

I force my face into a look of disbelief.

“I think he had a heart attack,” she continues. “It’s really, really sad. But the circumstances were also super strange. The guys he was with just grabbed him and hustled out of there. I didn’t even have time to call 911.”

“Why didn’t you report it to your boss? Did you kill him?” I ask, my tone light and joking. Deep down, I know she would never admit to doing it.

“Kill him?”

“I’m joking,” I say, forcing myself to laugh.

“Dominic,” she says, her voice laced with passion. “I don’t even kill the spiders in my shower. In fact, I named them all. Tom, Jerry, and Roosevelt. Roosevelt is the odd one out…don’t ask.”

I stare at her, not knowing how to process this information.

“But the point is, I wouldn’t ever hurt a living thing…human or not.”

“Not even if someone paid you?”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “I’m broke, but I’ll never be broke enough to accept dirty money.”

You work for the mafia , my mind screams. I push the thought down and shake my head. “Quite the noblewoman, you are.”

“Trust me, I have enough bad luck on my side to tempt fate like that. I’m actually kind of…cursed.”

This was interesting. I ignore her tales about murder and dirty money, and hone in on this. “Oh yeah? I need to hear this.”

“So, it’s kind of a long story,” she starts, pausing to assess my attention skills. I nod dutifully, encouraging her.

“When I was twelve years old, my parents and I were driving up to our summer cabin. About halfway there, I fell asleep in the backseat and they didn’t want to stop at a motel for the night, so they just kept going.” She pauses, recalling a painful memory. “Anyway, long story short, there was a drunk driver. He hit us. My parents died instantly, but I survived.”

“Shit, Lux, I’m sorry.”

And I meant it. Losing your parents at that young of an age must be excruciating. I lost my mother at sixteen and it had felt like drowning in the deepest, darkest pits of hell—and I had still had my father to take care of me. But an orphan at twelve years old?

“Yeah…well,” she brushes it off. “It was a long time ago. But that’s how I ended up bouncing around foster homes. And with every new home, my bad luck doubled and tripled. Now, I’m cursed.”

“So, what happens to you?”

“Well, random things go wrong every day,” she says, tapping her finger on her lip like she’s thinking. “For example, my apartment got broken into twice this week alone.”

I actually burst out laughing, realizing I’m the source of her current run of bad luck. She looks shocked for a second but cracks up as well.

“See? It’s not normal, right?” she says, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “At least they didn’t steal anything. They actually stocked my fridge for me, so I guess it’s a win?”

I knew that was a good idea. Enzo looked at me like I’d grown a second head when I sent him grocery shopping, but I didn’t care.

“Last call, folks.” The grizzly bartender appears in front of us. “You want anything?”

Lux shakes her head, sliding her water glass away. I slip my credit card into his hand, telling him to add her one drink to my tab. She smiles shyly, thanking me.

The laughter and playfulness of the last thirty minutes fade and that crackling tension is back. She feels it, too, from the way her eyes meet mine. The desire to kiss her is so strong. Nothing in the world could stop me right now.

So, I lean in, and my lips meet hers, too softly at first. I feel her intake of air and then she kisses me back, applying more pressure, nipping on my bottom lip. I slide my hand up her thigh, trying to pull her closer to me.

She moans softly and I almost come undone. I need to get her into my bed or I’ll spontaneously combust right here.

The bartender clears his throat, forcing us to break apart. He hands my card back and wanders away shaking his head.

“Do you…”

“I was thinking…”

We both freeze. She grins, her eyes melting into deep glacier pools. “You first.”

“I don’t usually do this,” I lie. “But…do you want to come back to my place?”

She nods eagerly, hopping off the stool. I laugh at her enthusiasm and follow her, slipping my hand onto her lower back.

I force myself to hover near the speed limit as we drive to my penthouse. We chat, sticking to lighter topics, but I can barely pay attention. Every second that ticks by makes the overwhelming desire to touch her, to taste her, grow.

We take the elevator all the way up, and she wanders into the entryway wide-eyed.

“This is where you live?” she asks, taking in the marble floors, soaring ceilings, and expensive furniture. “You must be a hell of a screenwriter.”

“My family has money,” I shrug, not wanting to lie to her any more than I have to. When did that start happening?

She spins back around to me and I worry for a second that I look like a rabid animal ready to pounce. Whatever she sees in my eyes sparks desire in hers. Those deep pools of blue glow in the darkness of my entryway and I spring forward, pushing her up against the wall.

I kiss her a little too aggressively, but it doesn’t scare her. She meets me with the same intensity, biting my lower lip, exploring my mouth with her tongue. I groan as she slips her hands into my hair, pulling me even closer.

She’s such a tiny thing that I easily hoist her up. Her legs automatically wrap around me, holding me tight. I trail my lips down her throat, the scent of cinnamon and laundry soap swirling around me, possessing my very being.

She whimpers when I lightly bite down on her shoulder and grinds her hips into mine. We’re both panting, our faces flushed. I pull back and just stare at her for a second—at her parted lips, cheeks that are on fire, and the lust-drunk look in her eyes.

I want to devour her completely. Make her mine.

Make sure no one else will ever touch her.

“Bedroom?” she whispers, low and throaty. I nod and toss her over my shoulder as she laughs, surprised. I stride to my room and throw her on the bed, staring down at her like the predator that I am.

She smirks, pulling herself up onto her elbows and stares right back. Why isn’t she scared of me? Everyone’s scared of me.

“Strip for me,” she commands, her voice soft and laced with desire. I’m taken aback for a second. In all my years of fucking women, not a single one has ever tried to take control. I don’t know how to feel.

The savage part of me—The Wolf—protests, but when she smiles at me, I start unbuttoning my shirt. It’s not the radiant sunshine smile I’ve seen before. Not even her playful flirty smile from the bar. This is dark, sultry.

The smile of a serpent before it unhinges its jaws and eats me alive.

I forget who’s in charge of the game as I slip off my shirt. She bites her lower lip when I pull off my belt, and I imagine it landing hard across her ass, leaving behind irresistible red welts. The rest of my clothes float to the ground and I’m naked in front of her.

Her eyes don’t shy away, roving over every inch of my body. Slowly, she crawls off the bed, coming to stand before me, the top of her head barely reaching my shoulders. With the most feather-light touch, she trails her fingers down my chest.

“Now strip me,” she says, her eyes searing into mine. I lose the ability to breathe, her voice hypnotizing me, controlling me. I start pulling off her clothes, every touch of bare skin burning my fingers. She sinks slowly back down onto the bed, crossing her legs.

The absence of her body, seconds ago so close to mine, makes me want to scream. I move toward her, but she puts out her hand to stop me. A dark smile plays on her lips, exciting me, filling me with anticipation for what will happen next.

“On your knees,” she whispers, her voice a little more unsure. I fall to my knees immediately, ready to burn down the entire world if she just asks. I’m fucked, I realize.

She strokes my hair, praising me for listening so well, and my cock twitches. Without any sense of urgency, she spreads her legs and leans back on her elbows. I shuffle forward on my knees, sliding my hands over her silky thighs.

Her moan spurs me on, and I trail light kisses across them. Her fingers curl into my hair, pulling me closer. My lips hover over her pussy, my hot, ragged breath making her squirm. I breathe her in and my mouth waters.

I lose all control, unable to follow her unhurried pace anymore. She gasps as my face sinks between her thighs. Moving like a madman, I lick and tease her, swirling my tongue around her most sensitive spots. I slip a finger inside her, then another, and my cock jumps impatiently.

Her breath is coming hard and fast, her hips bucking wildly. I rip my face away, and she protests, trying to pull me back.

“I need to be inside you,” I growl, pushing her higher onto the bed. “It’s a matter of life and death right now.”

Her surprised laugh turns into a deep moan as I sink into her. I go still, savoring the moment, the feeling of her clenching and gripping me. She pouts and bucks her hips, making me smile.

“Is this what you want?” I ask, pulling out and sinking back in harder. She gasps, nodding her head, her wild golden hair fanning out across the pillow. I commit the image to memory and repeat the movement, thrusting myself in deeper.

Her moans mix with mine as we find a steady rhythm. She meets each of my thrusts until we’re both riding the same wave of pleasure, searching for release. She lets go first, her legs shaking, her hands clawing at my back.

When she arches up and bites down on my shoulder, nearly breaking the skin, I explode inside of her. Stars cloud my vision, my body buzzing with electricity. She falls back on the bed, breathing heavily.

I gaze down at her face for a second. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips curved into a satisfied smile, and her thick, dark lashes are resting on her cheeks.

Aphrodite, Cleopatra, Helen of Troy—everyone got it wrong. Lux Davis is the most beautiful woman in the world.

It’s going to be such a shame to kill her.