Series: The Rossi Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 66960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Who does she think I am? I should probably just put her back in that cell and lock the door. It’s what I’d do with any other person… right? Wrong. Any other person would be dead by now.
Frustration over this tiny woman spirals out of control inside me. I should stop this whole thing before it gets even further… I really should. But she just feels too fucking perfect in my arms, and I imagine her in my bed, my cock sliding deep inside her, my name falling from her lips. The urge to toss her to the floor consumes me, and I tighten my hold on her instead. I’m fighting myself tooth and nail over her, and I don’t even know why.
“You… you killed him?” she finally says.
“Yeah? What’s your point?” I try my hardest not to sound angry, but I am. I’m so fucking angry, at her, at myself, at everything.
“W… why did you kill him?” Her voice is fragile, matching her delicate facial features. She’s so tiny I could crush her in an instant. I could wrap my hands around her throat and remove her existence from my life… and I fucking don’t.
“I don’t fucking know,” I growl, reaching the bedroom… my bedroom. I kick the half open door all the way open and walk inside. Cradling her body against mine feels wrong, and right, and still so fucking wrong. I walk over to the king-sized bed and toss her down onto the mattress. She scurries backward, away from me.
Her doe eyes dazzle with fear.
“What are you going to do to me?” Her bottom lip trembles as she speaks.
God, she’s so gorgeous when she’s on the verge of tears.
“I don’t know, Mouse.” I pause briefly, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Part of me wants to put a bullet in your head; another part wants to fuck you senseless.”
I see her thighs clench together at my response, and I wonder if she would like me fucking her. I wouldn’t be gentle like she most likely deserves… I’d be ruthless, sinister. I’d fuck her until she was screaming for me to stop, and even then, I’d still keep going.
I shake the thought away, and when she doesn’t respond, I walk over to the dresser and grab a shirt out for her, flinging it at her over my shoulder.
“Either way, you should probably be scared, Mouse. I don’t take mercy on anyone, whether that be in bed or out of bed. There’s a chance I might fuck you and kill you moments later.”
When I turn around, I find her face a mask of horror. She’s scared, and that’s exactly what I need her to be for this to work out. If she’s scared of me, it’ll make it easier for me to kill her once I get her out of my system.
“Go shower and make sure you clean your wounds well. I don’t want you to die before I’m done with you.”
I remain standing, watching her movements as she slowly gets up from the bed, those big blue eyes of hers never leaving mine. When her bare feet hit the floor, she darts toward one of the open doors to her right. I haven’t told her which room is the bathroom and yet she finds it without thought.
She escapes inside with the shirt, my shirt, in her hand, and I exhale, clenching my jaw so hard I can feel my molars grind together.
I need a drink… a strong one. I also need to kill her, but I don’t think I can do it. I pull my gun from its holster and examine it. All I have to do is lift the barrel and pull the trigger. All I have to do is pull the fucking trigger… but I won’t. I can’t. Why? I don’t fucking know. I never had this issue before.
I hear the water in the bathroom turn on. An image of her completely naked beneath the spray enters my mind. I shake my head as if doing so will remove the image from my mind, but it doesn’t.
Why is she under my skin? In my head?
Normally, I wouldn’t have to rationalize with myself over killing someone, but with her, I have to and I don’t like it. I don’t like the power she holds over me for not being able to do it.
I walk over to the small bar I have in the corner of the room and grab a bottle of bourbon, as well as a glass. I consider drinking the entire fucking thing, but that wouldn't be smart. I need to be sober, or somewhat sober, in case there is an attack.
So, instead, I pour half a glass and walk back over to the bed, swirling the amber liquid around. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for her to finish her shower, contemplating my next move. My gun sits heavily against my thigh.