Chapter 90

Kayla

I laid on the couch that evening, reading the last pages of my book—the same fantasy romance that Nicholas had recommended. I was finally almost finished with it, and admittedly, I was sad that it was nearly over.

No matter how annoyed I was with Nicholas, I had to hand it to him: he had good taste in books. Particularly romance novels.

I hadn’t seen him all day since the meeting with the wedding planner at the diner. He had dropped me off at home afterwards, saying that he had things to do, then sped off. I didn’t really bother to stand there and watch him drive away before I had gone inside.

Contrary to what one might think, though, I wasn’t mad at him. Not really.

I was just… frustrated. With him, with myself, with the entire situation between us.

I shifted uncomfortably on the couch, careful to keep my foot elevated on a pillow like Jade had said. The stitches were still there, beneath the bandage—somehow, by some miracle, I hadn’t popped any that night we had chased the drug dealer down—but they were beginning to itch, and Jade had made me promise that I wouldn’t give in to the temptation.

But it wasn’t easy. So I had distracted myself with some good old fantasy romance. By the time I flipped to the last page, I let out a sigh and tossed the book aside, propping my forearm over my face.

“Need another?”

The sound of Nicholas’s deep voice coming from the doorway caused me to jolt upright so quickly that I finally nearly popped a stitch. He was standing there with his hands in his pockets and a slightly amused expression on his face.

“That book was pretty good,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing slightly as I sat up. “Are there others in the series?”

“Lots.” Nicholas was already turning on his heel. His voice echoed through the house as he hurried down the hall, headed toward his study. I followed him part of the way, stopping at the base of the stairs. I didn’t need to wait for long, because he came bounding back down the stairs shortly after, stopping a few steps above me.

He handed me a stack of books.

“Here’s all the books in the series. Trust me, it gets a lot more interesting in book two.”

I quirked an eyebrow, but took the stack.

“Thank you.”

Sure enough, by midnight that night, I had nearly finished half of the second book. Nicholas was right; it really was somehow far more interesting. The male and female lead got separated in the first chapter, and the female lead had to go on an adventure of her own to save her love from the clutches of evil.

Finally, they found each other. And the scene depicting their first night together was coming to a head, leaving me practically chewing my lips in anticipation.

And then I turned the page.

My eyes turned as wide as saucers.

It wasn’t the sex scene itself that had me astonished. It was the fact that Nicholas had…

He had underlined some of the more detailed portions.

Positions. Who kissed who in which spots. Dirty talk.

Was he… studying the sex scenes? This has to be a practical joke, I thought, frowning. I flipped through the book, not giving myself any spoilers, just to see if he had done the same thing elsewhere.

He had. In fact, it seemed that every steamy scene in the second book was marked up.

“That fucking dirty playboy,” I growled, slamming the book shut and tossing it aside. It fell to the floor with a dull thud, the green dragon on the cover staring up at me. Mocking me.

Well, that was spoiled for me. All I could picture now was Nicholas reading the sex scenes, studying them like a history exam, and then… repeating them. With other women.

The man I was supposed to marry, the man who was throwing a fake engagement party on the weekend of my birthday…

He had used the books he’d offered me as studying material.

With a huff, I flopped back on the pillows, suddenly caught between anger and frustration. I raked a hand through my hair, but the way my fingers trembled ever so slightly wasn’t lost on me.

The book stared at me out of the corner of my eye. It was practically begging to be read, and…

I couldn’t help it. The longer I laid there, the more I wanted to know what was so fascinating about those scenes that Nicholas had gone to the trouble of underlining them.

So, despite my better judgment, I picked the book up again and flipped to my last page.

As I read, I told myself that I was just curious about the plot and that the sex scenes were just a bonus. But the more scenes I read, the more marks I saw on the page, the more I pictured… him performing those actions.

“He thrust himself all the way to the hilt,” the book went on. “She threw her head against the pillows and arched her back as his fingers swirled against…”

“As Nicholas moved his fingers in slow circles around her most sensitive spots…”

“Nicholas… twisted his hips against her…”

“Against… me.”

I didn’t mean to do it. I never meant to swap out the male and female leads for ourselves, but it happened before I could stop it. And before I knew it, my hips were warming beneath the sheets, my hand moving down, down toward—

Stop it, Kayla.

With a frustrated grunt, I chucked the book again, this time clean across the room. It hit the wall and slid to the floor behind the dresser, where I intended to leave it forever.

Deciding that some cool air would bring me back to my senses, I quickly slipped out of bed and padded downstairs, stopping in the kitchen to chug a glass of water. I filled it again and drank another, letting the water dribble down my neck, down between my breasts. Right where he might…

Dammit, I thought wryly as I slammed the cup down in the sink and whirled around to head back upstairs. I need to get a grip—

There he was.

Amber eyes glowed in the darkness. Broad shoulders tensed, chiseled chest heaving. His nostrils flared, and in an instant, he had closed the distance between us.

I didn’t know how to react—I didn’t even have a chance to before Nicholas was suddenly on top of me, pressing me against the sink. I could hardly even breathe, and even if he hadn’t been sandwiching me with his body, I wasn’t sure if I could have forced air into my lungs anyway.

“You were reading those scenes, weren’t you?” he hissed in my ear, his breath warm and smelling faintly of bourbon as he brushed his lips across my throat. “I underlined them for you.”

My eyes widened. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but I couldn’t.

Maybe I didn’t even want to, I realized, as my legs began to tremble beneath my nightgown.

He noticed.

His hand was suddenly pushing up my dress before coming to rest between my thighs. His thumb and forefinger shamelessly pinched the soft mound of flesh between my legs.

Teasing me. He was teasing me.

And when I opened my mouth to speak, only to let out a strained and pathetic little whimper a moment later, I knew that it was working. So did he.

“You’re like a she-wolf in heat,” Nicholas growled, his fangs grazing my skin—right where my mating mark sat. “I can smell it on you. I could smell it all the way across the house. I know what you said last night, about wanting to just get it over with… So why don’t we?”

I didn’t have a response for that. My mind felt far away, clouded with desire. Somewhere through the haze, the real me was screaming and banging at the inside, telling me that this was a bad idea, that it would only complicate things, but I didn’t care.

I wanted him. Badly. And I wanted him to take the scenes he had underlined just for me and I wanted him to repeat them in my bed.

Even if I regretted it tomorrow.

Then, suddenly, I felt him bite into my mark all over again. Fresh pain seared through my neck, my mating mark humming to life like a live wire. I yelped out loud, a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing around me all at once.

He sank his teeth down into my mark, and for a moment, I was reminded of the beast he truly was; the insufferable playboy who wanted to make me his.

And I was reminded of how, deep down, I loved it.

But then, just like that, he was gone. He pulled back as if he’d been shot, and I felt the sudden coldness of his absence as he slipped into the darkness and disappeared.

And I was left there, touching the mark on my neck with trembling fingers.

When I pulled them away, they were tinged with blood, and my knees were quivering so hard I thought I might collapse.