Page 29 of Devil's Thirst
“I want to hear thetruth, goddammit.”
“Thatisthe truth, and it’s more than I’ve told anyone else. You say you chose me, but you don’t even know what that means.” Frustration swells into anger, sharpening my words.“Everything about me is complicated, so if you don’t like that, then great, you can leave. Better for you to figure it out now.”
Better now than after I’ve fallen for you.
I leave that part unspoken because it feels too vulnerable. I can’t tell him more than I already have—it’s too dangerous. And my duty to keep my family safe is far more important than appeasing his sense of curiosity.
When he remains silent, I slowly return my gaze to his, silently pleading for him not to give up on me. Pleading for him to be the man I need him to be.
His eyes glint like shards of black onyx. “You have no idea how committed I am. If you did, you’d be the one running.”
It sounds like a warning, but I can’t see how being committed to someone could be a bad thing. The thought of having someone at my back, no matter how rough the seas—someone who regards me above all others—sounds like a dream, not a nightmare.
“I’m not going anywhere so long as you don’t give me a reason to,” I whisper.
His hands cup my face as his body once again presses against mine. “Tell me you won’t let another man touch you.” His words are raw with desperation. “So long as I don’t give you a reason to leave, I need to know that this—” His thumb tugs lights at my bottom lip before his knuckles trail gently down my throat and chest until his hand cups my breast. “And this—”
I gasp when his thumb intentionally swipes across my straining nipple, only now realizing I must have dropped my blanket somewhere along the line. I’m so lost in the feel of his touch that I’m practically panting when his palm cups my sex over my panties.
“And every delicious inch of this … ismine.” His forehead comes to rest against mine, his eyes pressing tightly shut. “Jesus, you’re wet for me already.”
I watch in fascination as his eyes pop back open with an intensity that borders on madness. “Tell me, Amelie. I need to hear you say it.”
I’ve fantasized about how it would feel for someone to look at me with the same degree of unguarded desire as I see in Isaac’s stare. Like I am the center of his entire universe. Surely, no greater feeling exists.
I would give him everything in my possession if it meant I could bask in this glow for a moment longer. The promise of monogamy is hardly any price at all.
“I won’t let anyone else touch me. Only you.” The words tumble from my lips as though they’ve been perched there for days, waiting for their cue.
Isaac’s lips crash against mine.
It’s so unexpected that I gasp and stiffen before melting into his arms.
This man only knows the tip of the iceberg in regard to my crazy life, but he didn’t run, and I’m overwhelmed with dizzying relief. The heady taste of his tongue swiping against mine has my eyes rolling back in my head. I have to cling to him to keep myself upright.
Isaac doesn’t kiss. He devours.
The ravenous intensity of his lips moving against mine makes me feel like the greatest treasure in the world. Like there is no world without me in it.
I’m instantly addicted.
When he pulls away, I have to fight back a swell of panic in my chest.
“I know I said I’d only ask those two things of you, but I have one more to add.”
My defenses are too intoxicated from his kiss to raise an alarm. I peer up at him with a lopsided smile. “What’s that?”
“Swear to me that you’ll tell me if this Society contacts you? If you feel in danger in any way.”
“Okay,” I breathe, in awe that he took me at my word about The Society. As though my safety is of more importance to him than validating my claims of a threat.
If that’s not devotion, I don’t know what is.
“You know,” he continues, his voice dropping an octave. “There are other ways to handle issues like that. Ways that don’t involve the police.” He makes the comment casually, like tossing a bit of bread onto the surface of a lake to see if it floats.
I know what he’s implying, but I’m stunned that he’d offer such a suggestion when we’ve spent so little time together. My sister’s husband is Irish mob. I know a whole subset of people who live outside the law. Could he be one of them? Or is he simply taking inspiration from movies without any real knowledge of how these things work? I didn’t want to make assumptions about his menacing appearance, but having a criminal association would track, and it would explain why he wouldn’t scrutinize the existence of The Society.
Maybe he’s the answer I’ve prayed for.