Page 35 of Devil’s Azalea (Nightshades #3)

He ignores my weak protest completely, leaning down to drag the knife’s sharp edge along the inside of my jeans.

The hard material parts like butter in heat, giving way with a loud rip—and fuck me —that only sends my lust skyrocketing.

This man wants me so badly he’s cutting through my clothes rather than wasting another second.

Once the jeans are off, his hands are back on me, and I assist eagerly, sliding over his legs to straddle him. He yanks my jacket off with barely contained ferocity, then tears away my shirt until I’m sitting on his lap in just my bra and panties.

His eyes darken to molten silver, and he licks his lips as he leans in to bury his face between my breasts. I moan shamelessly, head falling back in surrender as I clutch at his hair.

He grabs a fistful of mine in return as he guides me down, tilting my head to control the angle before claiming my lips again, this time in a rougher, harder kiss.

Our tongues meet in a sensual dance, but he immediately dominates mine, drawing it into his mouth to take a drugging pull I feel right in my core.

I moan long and deep into his mouth, and his teeth sink into my lower lip in a sharp bite that sends pain flashing through me—only to soothe it immediately by licking over the spot before diving back in for another searing kiss.

The warring sensations of pain and pleasure mingle dangerously, stoking the pressure building in my core.

Am I seriously going to orgasm from just a kiss? What kind of witchcraft is this?

Then suddenly the car hits a bump, and I’m rocked forward until my clit presses right over his cock. The shock of it rips pleasured groans from both of us, loud and completely unfiltered as we break the kiss.

Fuck. Did the men up front hear that?

God, I hope not.

But my flash of worry evaporates the moment he leans back in to kiss me again, his free hand on my thigh slowly climbing higher and higher until his fingers find the lacy edge of my panties.

I hold my breath, suspended in a moment of agonizing anticipation, my body shaking, waiting for the drugging pleasure of his touch.

And when he finally palms my cunt with that deep, possessive pressure that makes my toes curl, I jolt in his arms, effectively breaking the kiss again. His rough exhales brush warm air past my cheek, and I shudder, hypersensitive to even that slight breeze.

“So responsive, so hot and soaking wet for me,” he whispers into my ear, his voice dripping with such raw hunger that it triggers a visceral reaction deep within me.

“Because you fucking make me burn from the inside out,” I whimper pathetically, sliding my hands down from his hair to clutch his shoulders.

He presses a soft kiss to the shell of my ear as his fingers slip underneath my panties, working over my clit with torturous slowness, circling and teasing when I need pressure and speed.

“ Rafaelllll .” I draw his name out in a moan, shifting my hips impatiently. Harder. Faster. More.

The bastard actually chuckles, and I open my mouth to curse him to hell and back, but the words dissolve into a startled gasp when he suddenly sinks two fingers into me.

Fuckkk . The pleasure coils tighter and tighter, the interior of the car swimming pleasantly around me as he plays my body like a finely tuned instrument.

I’m going to cum harder than I’ve ever cum in my life.

The realization both scares and thrills me. He’s always like this—fucking filling me with contradictory emotions until I don’t know if I want to kiss or kill him. Before I can decide, he finds my g-spot and taps on the bundle of nerves just as he rubs his thumb over my clit.

I throw my head back so hard, it hits the partition with a rattle, but I’m beyond caring because I’m shattering completely in his arms. The bright lights of passing buildings merge with heavenly stars bursting behind my eyelids, blinding me through closed eyes.

“So fucking tight, love. You’re strangling my fingers.” He curses roughly, but he keeps up those intoxicating movements, dragging out my orgasm for endless seconds as I chant his name like a prayer.

“Rafael. Rafael. Rafael.”

“That’s right, baby. Moan my name. Let everyone know who the fuck you belong to,” he groans.

My limbs are shaky, my neck hurting like hell as I raise my head back up to look at him. His eyes are no longer gray but silvery pools of fire that I could drown in forever. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of me, leaving my core fluttering around nothing, achingly empty.

He lifts his hand—slick with my arousal—to his mouth, his eyes closing as he moans seductively while licking his fingers clean.

My heart skips several beats when those eyes open again, pinning me in place. “Like fucking heaven,” he murmurs.

Then he leans behind him, grabs a pack of wipes, and cleans his hand. Once he’s done, his arms circle my waist, and he doesn’t have to apply much pressure to have me melting into his chest. I sigh contentedly, nuzzling his neck and inhaling his cologne.

As I settle more fully against him, I shift slightly on his lap, trying to get comfortable, and his sharp groan hits my ear as his hard-as-hell cock drags against the curve of my ass. I grind back—just once, just to experiment—and his hands clamp down on my hips, stilling me.

“I did not kill your father, Emilia. And until you believe me over the lies you’ve been fed over the years, I’m not going to fuck you. Because if you let me in once, I'm never letting you go again.”

I stiffen in his arms as everything that stands between us comes rushing back into my brain, and I push away from his chest. He lets me.

My panties cling wetly to me, but I’m not taking them off in his presence. I frown down at my ruined jeans. “Great. I’m going to make the walk of shame out of your car in just my underwear.”

Wordlessly, he picks up a heavy cloak and tosses it onto my lap. Just how many things does he keep stashed in this car? I shrug it on, trying desperately to ignore how his scent envelopes my senses.

“And whether you killed my father or not, Rafael, we’re still on opposite sides of the law. Which means you’re my enemy regardless of what happened ten years ago.”

Shit. Why did I say that? Now he’ll think I’m having second thoughts. Which I am, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Ahh, but you just came all over your enemy and ruined his expensive pants.” He gestures to his crotch where the material is visibly darkened, wet from my juices.

Heat floods my face. Fucking hell. I was practically naked, writhing on his lap while he remained fully dressed in his damn suit.

“And you were choking on your enemy’s cock a few nights ago,” he continues silkily, “moaning around it like your life depended on drinking my cum. I’m sure your superiors at the bureau would be fascinated to discover that particular nugget of information.”

The threat pulls my gaze from his pants and the tempting outline of his cock.

I blink at him, trying to regain my train of thought.

“And where is your proof?” I shoot back, smirking.

Pretty damn proud of myself for stringing together a smart coherent response after being distracted by…

well, him . “Nobody at the agency is going to believe the words of a criminal like you over me.”

He raises an arrogant brow and extracts his phone from his jacket pocket.

My heart plummets to my stomach, then bounces back up to lodge in my throat.

He doesn’t actually have proof… does he?