Tempted by Deception (Deception Trilogy #2) by Rina Kent

This woman hasn’t only been messing with my patterns, but she’s also provoking a part of me that I bid farewell when I was a child. A part that I will smother to death before it invades me again.

I had to prove to myself and her that I’m in control and always will be.

That’s why I took her against the table as soon as we were inside. She thought she could get rid of me and I thought that, too. For a moment before I flipped her down, I had this idea that I’d fuck the anger out of her and erase the chaos that’s related to her.

I didn’t.

If anything, it’s become bleaker, harsher, and darker. With every thrust into her tight cunt and every moan from her pink lips, I felt an invisible thread form between us. I’m not the type who forms a bond with my sexual partners. They’re simply there for me to use and give pleasure back to if I see fit. They know me to be rough, callous, and demanding, but they keep coming back for more.

They know me to be cold and easily bored, and that’s why I pull out after release.

That was not the case with Lia.

For the first time in my nearly thirty-one years, I took a woman again right after I was finished with her. A dark obsession grabbed hold of me, and I needed to hear her moans and watch her petite frame shake as she unraveled around me. I had to engrave in my brain the way her face contorted with pleasure as she cried out my name and dug her nails into my shoulders when it got to be too much.

In fact, all I want right now is to wake her and pick up where we left off. I want to touch every inch of her body, study it, and tease it to heights even she wouldn’t have thought possible.

Then…I’d eventually destroy it.

What a fucking waste.

Taking a strand of her hair between my fingers, I inhale it, letting the scent of roses barge into my lungs and carve a place there. Everything about her is soft, even her personality.

But being soft doesn’t mean she’s naive. Lia knows when to stand up for herself if need be, but she carefully picks her battles.

Like a survivor would.

Considering her background, the tactic makes perfect sense.

Not that I gave her any choice. It was either my way or death. And while that’s how I usually deal with everything in my life, I find myself taking a different approach with her.

One I don’t fully understand myself.

I get up from the bed and note the pills on the nightstand. They’ve changed position from last time, so that means she’s been taking them these past couple of days.

Not bothering to pull on my boxer briefs, I head to the kitchen and take out a bottle of water from the fridge. I pause with it halfway to my mouth as I study the notes attached to the door.

Buy groceries.

You didn’t actually slip and break your ankle. That was a nightmare.

Try to reach L again.

I remove the last two, studying her neat cursive handwriting.

She’s reminding herself about her nightmares. Hmm. Does this mean her case is getting worse since the last time she saw her therapist?

My finger taps over the last note and my body turns stone cold, even with the heat in the apartment.

Try calling L again.

Who the fuck is L and why is she writing their name as an initial as if she’s keeping it as a dirty little secret?

Is he an ex-lover of hers? Friend with benefits? The more I think about it, the faster the red from the club threatens to return.

I slam the note back on the fridge before I can crumple it and give my snooping session away.

While I don’t give a fuck, I know she does, and then she’d start one of her psychoanalyzing sessions that only end up hurting her more than necessary.

She’ll soon see my uncensored side. How soon, is the question. My gaze flits over the living room, noting the places where I’ll have Kolya and Yan install cameras when she’s out.

There’s also a nook in her bedroom, right over her vanity, where it would be the perfect spot to insert a surveillance camera.

She’s right. I am a stalker.

But it’s either that or torture her for answers. What am I if not the perfect villain? I prefer to do things smoothly, not harshly.

It’d be a pity to draw blood from that porcelain skin; however, marking it is a different story altogether.

Seeing my red handprints on her ass brought out the beast inside me, the one who craves more marking, more claiming.

Just more.

After drinking the small bottle of water, I throw it in the trash and go back to the bedroom.

Lia is still sleeping in her death-like position, but the sheet has slipped, revealing a perfect pink nipple.

And just like that, I’m getting hard again.

Fuck.

I lie beside her, propping my head on my elbow to watch her intently. Unable to resist, I lean in and take the naked nipple into my mouth, lapping my tongue against it like a teenager with a tit obsession.

At first, Lia remains still, but then her dead position breaks and her lips part. “Mmmm…”

The sound goes straight to my dick, hardening it to the point of torture. I bite down on her nipple enough to cause slight discomfort, hoping she’ll open her eyes, but she moans again, her hand moving under the sheet.

I pull it down to watch her touching her cunt, rubbing her clit in that soft but erotic way that’s meant to get herself off.

Not again.

I might have watched the last time, but there will be no touching herself when I’m around anymore.