Page 278 of Craving Venom
Out of curiosity.
Zane doesn’t move until I nod once. His fingers brush up my ankle again and I let him get close. Let him think he’s about to win that privilege again.
I press the heel of my unstrapped foot against his chest. I push harder until he’s forced to lie on his back. My hair falls forward as I bend. It curtains around both our faces. I drag the leather strap through the buckle slowly.
His tongue flicks out to lick the edge of his bottom lip. He watches me fasten it. Watches me do what he was about to.
I finish the buckle with a final tug, letting my fingers linger on the soft leather before brushing over the sharp bone of my ankle. I start to straighten until his hands clamp around my wrists.
In one violent motion, he yanks me forward. The chair jerks with a screech and topples backward, crashing hard against the floor.
I crash into his chest, the wind knocked out of me as the world flips upside down. Zane rolls, flipping us in one brutal, seamless motion until he’s on top of me and his forearms are caging me in. His thighs press firmly against the sides of mine, holding me in place as his cock grinds into my center with unapologetic friction.
“Tell me,” he growls, low and rough and cruel in the most devastating way. “How did it feel to have the world’s most wanted criminal at your feet?”
My lips part. My chest heaves. I should be afraid—I am afraid—but I lift my chin anyway.
“Indestructible,” I breathe.
And I fucking mean it.
His wolfish smile widens. It stretches across his face like he’s just tasted something forbidden and liked it too much to stop. He doesn’t kiss me. Doesn’t say a word. Just drinks me in.
Then, just as suddenly, his weight disappears from my body as he rises in one fluid motion. His hand closes around mine and pulls me up with him. My legs are shaky, my breath still uneven, but I don’t stumble.
His fingers brush over the creases of my dress, smoothing them. Then he looks me dead in the eyes.
“Ready to go?”
It’s not really a question.
“Yeah.”
And just like that, we walk out the door.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
THE MONSTER
I’m propped against the hood of my Bugatti, with my arms crossed, and my back resting against the bumper as I stare up at the building Faith just walked into.
She forgot her purse. I offered to get it for her, but she waved me off. Not that I mind, considering it gives me a few seconds to pull myself together before I do something I can’t take back. Like slam her against this car and fuck her with the whole world watching.
Faith walks toward me, and her hips sway in a rhythm that sends blood roaring through my veins. The streetlamp above her flickers once before it gives up entirely. Doesn’t matter. Moonlight clings to her like it knows it’ll never touch anything better.
The dress doesn’t even do her justice.
She stops when she gets close enough to see what I’m leaning against.
“You own this car?” She asks, lifting a brow.
I push off the hood, give her a smile that barely hides how fucked I am. “People love to call me Nighthawk,” I say, taking slow steps toward her. “Doesn’t mean I actually have wings.”
She swallows the laugh, lets it press against her smile instead. Her eyes land on the car again, taking it in with awe so raw it hums in the air between us.
But I can’t stop watching her.
I want to tear that dress off. I want to fuck her in it. I want to be on my knees again, devour her pussy until she’s crying and clawing at the paint of this multimillion-dollar car.
