Page 72 of Vicious Behaviors

“That. This.” She lightly runs a finger over my brow. “Why do you fight them every night?”

Because it silences the voice in my head. Because if I don’t get my violence out in the ring, I might turn it loose on the wrong person. On someone I care about. On her.

I don’t say any of that and instead ask, “Why do you care?”

“Honestly?” she says, dropping her hand from my face. “I shouldn’t… care.”

It’s the first honest thing I’ve heard her say. Maybe the first truth she’s given me since we met.

With that truth hanging above us, we just stare at each other. I wish there was nothing but tenderness in our eyes and not this… torturous ache. My chest constricts under the weight of it…of her.

When she finally breaks the connection and starts to step back, my hands move on instinct. I grab her by the waist and hold her still. She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t tell me to let go. Instead, she places her palms on my bare chest again, her shallow breathing now quickening.

“We can’t,” she whispers, voice raw, head bowed.

“Can’t what?”

“You know what.”

But it’s too late. When her eyes rise to meet mine again, molten gold swimming in them, I know she’s just as far gone as I am.

“Stop me, then,” I say.

And when she doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as speak, I lean in and crash my mouth against hers.

Chapter 16

Isobel

My breath catches in my throat the moment Marcello’s lips touch mine. Every rational thought disappears the second he claims me with just one kiss.

It’s surprisingly soft at first, as if he’s afraid it might break me. And fuck if it doesn’t.

I shouldn’t be kissing Marcello. I shouldn’t have looked into his eyes and practically begged for it. But here I am… kissing him back, losing myself in the moment.

“Izzie,” he moans out as he deepens the kiss, the sound of my name on his lips sounding just as raw and needy as I feel.

I thread my fingers into his hair, reciprocating his kiss with everything I’ve got. He lets out a feral groan into my mouth, his kiss growing hungrier, more demanding, as if he’s searching inside me for something he lost. I feel myself opening up a hidden part of me, inviting him in to do his worst.

“Fuck,” he growls, his fingers digging into my hips as his tongue invades my mouth.

Desperate. Possessive. All-consuming.

My heart jackhammers as he pulls himself off the desk and walks me backward until my spine hits the wall. I’m trapped now, caught between his hard body and the cold surface behind me.

Still, I don’t move. I don’t want to. Even when my rationality begs me to snap out of this lust-drunk fog, I don’t dare move an inch. Because I want more. So much more.

“You taste too fucking sweet,” he grunts, as if angry about how much he’s enjoying kissing me. Almost as if he wished he didn’t. And I get it. God, how I get it. I wish I didn’t like the way my body has suddenly sprung to life with this kiss, either.

Marcello’s lips are firm, his tongue insistent, his scent all masculine with something darker that makes my insides tighten with need. When he nudges my legs apart with his thigh, forcing me to grind against him, a moan escapes before I can stop it.

“Don’t fucking do that,” he snarls as his hand releases my hair from its ponytail while the other clamps around my throat.

To my own shock, I’m not afraid. In fact, his hand around my neck feels just as euphoric as his deadly kiss. And when he adds pressure to my throat, I whimper embarrassingly, urging him to steal the air from my lungs and replace it with his.

Marcello takes. And I give. It’s the wrong power balance, but somehow it still feels right.

When he grinds his thigh against the sensitive ache between my legs, I bite down on his lower lip and moan out his name like it’s a prayer I’ve been waiting a lifetime to whisper.