Page 44 of Precious Hazard (Perfectly Imperfect #11)

I press my purse to my stomach and inhale, staring at Satan’s door.

He arrived home about twenty minutes ago while I was putting the final touches on my makeup.

I heard him coughing out in the hallway, and he sounded much worse than yesterday.

Stubborn idiot. I’m tattling to Sienna first thing tomorrow morning.

Maybe she can knock some sense into her boneheaded brother.

Not that I’m worried about his health or anything. God knows, if DeVille dropped dead, it would solve a lot of my problems and… My stomach hits the floor. That cough really did sound serious. What if he’s actually sick?

Reaching into my purse, I take out my phone and shoot Sienna a quick text.

Okay. There. I did my good deed. Now, someone else can worry about Arturo, and I can go back to not caring about him at all.

It’s just… Ugh. Alright, maybe I do care.

But only a little. Perhaps I should suggest we skip this stupid shindig?

But even if I do, I doubt he’d consider it.

My fingers shake slightly as I lift my hand to knock. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous to face him. I do know it’s not because of the reaction I’ll surely get as soon as he opens his door. Am I anxious to see him because of what happened last night?

I can’t quell the hurricane of emotions that’s been brewing in me.

Can’t dismiss the feel of his arms around me.

The way he held me… Gently. With his palm stroking soothingly along my back, all while I frantically clung to him.

The peace I felt in his embrace. The safety.

For that brief moment in time, I finally felt like nothing on this earth could harm me. I wish I could forget it, but I can’t.

Something shifted between us, there in the dead of night, and I’m not sure if it was a bad something or a good something.

As it is, one of the many barriers between us has disappeared.

It’s like… like I don’t hate him as much as I did before.

And, I don’t like it. Don’t like it at all.

Don’t enjoy this feeling in the slightest. Especially because it’s directed at the man who chose to turn my life upside down.

Ripped me away from my family, not giving it a single thought or harboring a moment’s regret.

As if I’m some kind of toy for him to play with.

So I refuse to feel anything for him other than disdain.

I came into this house with the intention of keeping Arturo DeVille away from me. Both physically and emotionally. That was my plan, my safety net. I’ve failed at one condition; I don’t intend to fail with the other.

Steeling my spine, I knock. Twice. On the other side, fast, measured steps. Approaching. The door slides open, revealing my annoying husband, who’s in the process of closing the clasp on his wristwatch. How can he make such a simple act look so sexy?

“You ready?” he asks while fumbling with the golden band. “We need to hurry if—”

The words die on his lips the moment he looks up. An outright hunger shines in his eyes as he stares at me. That look of desire, however, quickly morphs into shock as soon as he notices my hair.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he growls.

I grin. “What do you mean, darling?”

Arturo grits his teeth and takes a menacing step toward me. My self-preservation instinct has me retreating from him.

“You’re going back to your room”—another step closer—“and I don’t care how, but you’re going to fix that… that”—the final step makes me bump into a wall—“monstrosity and make yourself look normal.”

“No can do. There’s so much hair spray, I’d need to wash my hair. And if I do that, we’ll definitely be late.”

He doesn’t reply, but I see the muscle spasm in his stubble-covered jaw. Fury rises off him like a thick, dark cloud. Any moment now, he might strangle me. The gentle, caring man from last night is nowhere to be found.

Inside my chest, my heart feels like it’s being squeezed.

An invisible hand has got ahold of it. That’s what I wanted, right?

To bait him into being pissed off at me.

If he is, it makes it so much easier to hate him.

So much easier for me to forget… other things.

So why am I not jumping for joy, having succeeded in my goal? Why do I feel like crying?

“I don’t see what the problem is,” I continue, digging my nails into my palm to make sure my voice won’t break.

“I have not breached any of the terms of our agreement. The hairstyle is elegant. Regal even. I used a painting of Marie Antoinette as inspiration. Her appearance has always symbolized wealth and power. ‘The grander the hair, the higher the social status,’ they said. So I thought this would be more than suitable for tonight’s extravagant event. ”

“Maybe in the fifteenth century!” he snaps.

“Actually, she lived in the eighteenth.”

Arturo’s nostrils flare. He plants his palms on the wall on either side of me and dips his head. That ravenous look returns as his eyes focus on my lips. “Will you at least remove the damn feathers?”

“I’ll consider it. If you ask nicely.”

The lid of his left eye starts twitching. Oh boy . I appear to have hit dead center with that “ask nicely” comment.

He leans closer until our cheeks nearly touch. A pleasant quiver shimmers along my spine as his stubble ever so slightly brushes my skin.

“You seem to be very invested in finding ways to defy me, gattina .” His lips are right next to my ear as he whispers. Warm breath fans the delicate flesh of my earlobe. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“Hmm?” His proximity is making my every fine hair stand on end. Inhaling the sweet aroma of woods and the exotic warm spice of his cologne, tempts me to turn my head and bury my nose in the crook of his neck. Just as I did last night. “And what have you concluded?”

“I think…” Those soft lips ghost across the side of my face, and every neuron in my body catches fire. “I think that it turns you on, Tara.”

The air gets lodged in my throat. I open my mouth to deny it, to tell him how utterly idiotic his presumption is, but the words won’t form on my tongue.

He dips his head lower until his lips press just below my ear while he continues in that sultry, raspy voice. “Ask me how I know.”

“How?” I exhale.

“Because it has the same effect on me…, gattina mia .” His lips close around the pulse point on the column of my neck, sucking my skin between his grazing teeth.

An electric current zips through my veins, rattling my bones to the marrow. Every part of me tingles with charged energy. It’s how I feel each time we kiss. As if I’m melting. Dissolving into the ether only to be held together by his heated touch. This man is going to be my ruin. I just know it.

A faint moan escapes me, betraying my steadfast resolve to resist Arturo’s seduction.

I grab the lapels of his suit jacket and tilt my head to the side, giving him greater access.

His lips trail a painfully slow path to the juncture between my neck and shoulder.

It’s a searingly hot kiss. Suddenly, he seems to be everywhere, even though it’s only his mouth that’s touching me.

I can feel the power of that contact all the way between my legs, where my core clenches in desperate need.

No. This can’t be happening. Not again. I am not attracted to Arturo DeVille. And never will be.

His mouth continues the assault on all my senses, lighting me up from the inside. I’m teetering between begging for more and searching for the strength to stop this. No matter what I do, I lose.

But it doesn’t feel like a defeat when his teeth gently scrape my shoulder.

When the silky fabric of my skirt starts to drift upward along my bare legs.

My calves. My inner thighs. Wait… Those are calloused fingers.

Lightly touching my hypersensitive flesh.

Up. Trailing upward. Pulling my thong to the side…

The sudden pressure on my aching clit sends a jolt of heat through me, sparking to life the flame that’s now burning me alive. A low moan escapes my throat as air rushes from my lungs.

“I love the way you purr when I tease your pussy.”

My ability to shoot back a snarky response is nonexistent. All because of the way he’s now rubbing my clit. His slow but forceful motions are driving me insane. I squeeze the lapels of his jacket, holding on for dear life. Holding on to him.

His rhythm oscillates, switching from slow to fast, fast to slow. It’s as if he knows exactly what it will take for me to lose my mind completely. I throw my head back, panting, getting wetter by the second. Coming closer and closer to the edge.

Holy shit!

He can do that with nothing but his hand. No one else has ever made me orgasm just by letting their fingers play with my clit. Yet here I am. On the cusp of once again falling over the edge, guided by Arturo goddamn DeVille.

I hate myself for every moan of pleasure, every second of surrender, every shuddering breath. Everything he’s making me feel. And still, I never want him to stop.

His lips fall to my neck again, claiming my flesh with a force that straddles the line between pleasure and pain. The teasing of my pussy halts, and I’m just about to protest when he suddenly pinches my clit. Hello, cosmos! I explode. Reduced to stardust in a fucking supernova.

“See? I was right after all, little cat.”

The satisfaction in his voice is unmistakable. He pulls his hand away and brings his fingers to his lips. With his gaze locked on mine, he licks them clean. Just as he did the other night. And just as before, it has exactly the same effect on me. I nearly come again simply from seeing him do it.

“You taste so damn sweet.” A devilish smirk tugs up the corner of his lips. He slips the tip of his thumb into his mouth, sucking off the remaining cum. “Not even the slightest hint of that bitterness you so enjoy spewing. Which makes me think. All of that… Your venom… It’s nothing but an act.”