Touch of Hate Read Online J.L. Beck, Cassandra Hallman

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
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Shock, fear, and confusion all pool in the depths of her pale blue eyes. Yet her body remains still under mine. She doesn’t fight or try to push me off because underneath her shock lies recognition. In an instant, she knows who I am, and she knows I would never hurt her. Not physically, at least.

Her stiff body softens, and I lower myself farther, pressing her into the mattress with my weight. Those blue eyes of hers stay wide open, staring at me as if she’s scared to blink.

“You didn’t tell anyone?” I don’t have to explain what I’m talking about. She knows I mean the tunnels. Giving me a shake of her head, she confirms what I thought. “Good girl. Now let me give you your birthday present.”

I lift my hand from her mouth, and she immediately bombards me with questions. “Where were you, and what the hell happened? Why haven’t you—” I place my hand over her mouth, stopping her from whisper-yelling at me.

“No talking,” I order, which earns me an angry glare. “Quiet, or I’ll tie you up and gag you.” At my threat, Scarlet’s eye sparkle with excitement.

A grin tugs at my lips. My little angel likes my dark side. I shouldn’t be surprised. She is a Rossi, after all.

The power of this. Holding her life in my hands like I do with her warm, willing body at my command. It’s almost dizzying, though that could be the result of all the blood leaving my brain in favor of my swelling dick.

My own dark needs refuse to stay silent, announcing their presence in the most emphatic way as I twitch and strain under a zipper that just might break by the time this is over.

I remind myself that tonight is about her. I didn’t risk sneaking in here to take her in some clumsy, frenzied rush. That’s not how this is going to be.

It’s not what she deserves.

She deserves to dissolve in sheer pleasure and be carried away from conscious thought in favor of sensation. I’m going to be the man who introduces her to what she’s only dreamed about before now.

She wants this. She knows what I did. What I tried to do. She must. Yet she’s made no attempt at bucking me off her. In fact, her stiffened body has relaxed, melting against mine.

My angel. My all.

I hold a finger to my lips before pressing them to hers. If the scent of her bedroom is home, the taste of her lips is the warmth, comfort, and nourishment promised within.

Fuck, I had no idea how much I longed to kiss her. To share breath with her. I do what I can to savor the moment, to commit to memory every soft sigh and strained whimper.

She’s like a small, flickering flame leaping to life all at once. All it took was a simple kiss to get her blazing. Her plump lips part with no encouragement, her tongue brushing mine, stirring a needy groan from both of us.

She arches off the bed, and I shudder at the pressing of her tight nipples against my chest. So willing and eager for me.

Her hands, once wedged against my chest, now slide up and over my shoulders before meeting at the back of my head. Fingers twist in my hair, sending sparks of electricity across my scalp and down my spine, where they pool below my waist and leave my balls aching for release.

This is about her. It’s too easy to lose sight of the goal when she insists on reminding me of the other fun we could have.

The simple truth, one which I’d share with her if we had the time, is this: I don’t deserve to claim her fully. I always planned to when the time came, once she was old enough, but too much has transpired between the night I first saw her through new eyes and this night.

I don’t want her to regret it. She means too much to me, her happiness more important than any desire I could ever have.

That doesn’t mean I won’t allow myself to indulge in her kiss another moment longer before pulling away, removing her hands from the back of my head in favor of pinning them against her pillow.

“It’s your birthday, and everyone knows the most important part of birthdays,” I whisper, savoring the hazy desire in her eyes as they stare into mine. “Presents.” I grin. “But you have to promise me you’ll be a good, quiet girl.”

“Promise,” she breathes.

I admire the heaving of her chest, her hot breath hitting my face in quick bursts. She’s gone stiff again, fear and anticipation battling it out to see who’ll gain control. It’s no contest. Once I work my way down her body, placing light kisses over her covered breasts before moving farther south, she’s too wrapped up in desire to remember why she was ever afraid.


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