Page 160 of The Wicked

His breath hitched loudly—in fact, he stopped talking altogether, and our table went silent, waiting for him to continue while wondering what had happened.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his head turned towards me, and he placed me under his very calm stare as he said in Spanish, loud enough for everyone at the table to hear, “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

My eyes widened in surprise, and I felt my cheeks heat up as he turned back to the mayor, who looked between us with amused confusion; it was almost the same look everyone at the table threw at us.

I removed my hand quickly.

Elio continued what he was saying as if he hadn’t just stopped the whole conversation to scold me.

I wasn’t embarrassed. Fuck, I was turned on.I’ve never been so turned on like I am right now.

When the conversation shifted from Elio, he stayed for about six minutes before he excused himself to the bathroom, not before sending a pointed glare at me.

I bit the inside of my lip, waited for exactly three minutes after he left, and then I excused myself too, walking the same direction he had gone.

Was that subtle? No. Did half the table know I was going after him? Yes. Did I give a fuck about what they thought?

Hell.

Fucking.

No.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Elio

I was thinking with my dick.

I never think with my dick. I never think orusethe worddick.It was no consternation that I was gone. Too far gone into whatever fog the thought of Zahra brought to my head.

My thought process around the time I’d set those rules could be considered laughable at this very moment. Zahra Faizan wasn’t a woman you could touch once and be satisfied. She was slow poison, sinking and slipping into your veins with an alluring sensation that could turn any active brain to mush.

Unfortunately, I’d fallen victim to this sensation.

When she entered the plane earlier, my mind had already predicted that she would come in disguise. I never thought she would arrive without one. It took me by surprise. I couldn’t help but stare like I’d never seen a beautiful woman. God… from that moment, I knew I was done for. Her hair had been styled so beautifully. I relished the feeling of sinking my fingers into the mild curly waves, getting my fill of its fullness and softness, melting into the abyss of how beautiful it smelled, and then pulling until her neck craned and became mine to kiss, lick, and suck until I bruised her clear skin.

The flight had been spent with me fighting a battle with my mind, my brain, and my hand; and back there at that dinner table, I allowed Zahra to touch me, which was the most unprofessional I’d ever been.

Zahra had woven her webs so thick around the body of my mind. I couldn’t help but compare every woman in there to theone by my side. It was absurd. I do not compare women. I do not spend time letting my thoughts control me, but apparently, my common sense had vacated.

I let her touch me.

Iwantedher to touch me.

Back at that table, I knew nothing else but the warmth of her hand on my thigh.

That simple touch ignited a fire inside of me. One I couldn’t control, one that had made me envision myself pulling her with me to a place where no one would catch a glimpse of her bare skin when I fucked that attitude right back to a place she’d never be able to reach.

These thoughts were very foreign. They had never once grazed my mind when it came to other women.

I thought I was mad, but Zahra Faizan was driving me to the brink of what absolute madness felt like.

Now I was hard, uncomfortable, and frustrated.

I pushed into the men’s washroom. Thankfully, it was empty. I had to calm down, get my head in order, and hope for the erection Zahra had coaxed to settle.

I walked to the sinks and shrugged off my coat before placing it on the neighboring sink.