Page 28 of Forbidden Empire

ESME

Three hours and twenty-seven minutes. I counted every damn second on that Rolex clock Aidon had mounted on his wall, like he won it at a bloodsport.

My nails pressed half-moons in my palms.

I kept digging in, not sure if I was trying to keep myself anchored or just hoping I'd bleed.

I kicked off my heels. One of them hit the dresser, the expensive, shiny mahogany one, and made a crack that was a little satisfying.

He dragged me through that door, his hand tight on my arm. Hard enough to bruise, because, of course, that was his style.

Then he locked me in here, like some princess in a fairy tale, except the dragon was the goon outside the door. I paced the length of the room, back and forth, burning figure eights into the carpet.

Counting steps. Doors. Anything that looked like a weakness.

It figured. The bastard kept a penthouse in my brother’s casino. Zeno and Aidon, circling each other, both waiting for the other to make a move. Two scorpions trapped in a glass. Theidea of them sitting together, drinking, and talking, while I sat here, made my jaw ache.

I caught my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my hair wild. I slammed my fist into the wall again. The pain felt like something piercing, bright, and real.

“Fuck.”

I pressed my forehead to the window, chilled glass against my skin, sixty stories above the Strip. Vegas glittered underneath.

And then my body betrayed me.

Ridiculous, but true. I remembered his hands, his mouth, the way he held me down. My thighs squeezed together. Instinct, or muscle memory, or just more proof I was the weak one.

I could see him in my mind, pinning me to the wall, breathing hot and rough against my neck. Just the thought sent a bolt of electricity straight through me. I hated him. I hated myself more.

What kind of woman gets wet for the man who locks her up?

The kind who’d spent years lying awake, imagining all the ways she’d hurt him.

Never like this. Not boredom. Not this soft, slow torture.

I thought I’d be ready for death. Or violence. But not for this. Not for him leaving me here, alone with these filthy thoughts, and the ghost of his hand on my throat, pressing just hard enough to make my pulse roar.

My skin still burned where he'd gripped me.

I paced the room, my thighs clenching with each step.

Not once had I thought Aidon would leave me alone.

My mind was spinning. I needed to escape. Aidon was dangerous. By now, he most likely considered me his enemy, despite our shared past, and hated me just as much as I loathed him, despite the sexual tension that pulsed between us like it had a life of its own.

But if we hated each other, why did I still feel my pussy quiver every single time I was near the man?

Maybe it wouldn’t be so confusing, so complicated, if I’d never felt the firm caress of his touch, or the delicious slide of his cock entering me so smoothly.

Maybe if I’d never seen the look in his eyes while he exploded the searing heat of his desire deep inside my pussy…

This could have been much easier.

Maybe then, I’d have been long gone by now and had the strength to move on, not plagued with thoughts of Aidon that kept me lingering in places I should have left long ago.

Three a.m. hotel rooms, sheets ripped off the bed, my back nearly snapping in two, his name torn from my throat as I dug blood-red half-moons into his shoulders. That memory flashed behind my eyelids and made my thighs press together, my body clenching down on nothing.

I never believed Aidon would leave me alone.