Page 14 of The Cost of Corruption
Damn, I liked the sound of that. From the first time I’d heard it on her lips in the hallway.
Which made me wonder...
“How did you recognize me when you came out from your cousin’s party?”
“I haven’t been living under a rock,” she explained shakily. “We have newspapers at the convent. It might have been yearssince I’ve seen you last, but even nuns know what the D’Angelo brothers look like.”
Maybe so, but…
“But Gabriel’s the one with his face in the papers, not me.”
“Sure, but you’re twins,” she argued as if she was telling me something new.
“Which is why everyone always assumes I’m Gabriel when we’re not together.” His name was the one in the headlines. He was the subject of the news stories—not me. My name was hardly ever printed. Most times, I was simply referred to asthe twin. “But not you, Chastity. You instantly knew it was me. How?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyone could tell you two apart,” she nervously explained. “You hold yourselves differently. You speak differently. Even the way you breathe is different.”
Very interesting.
“How is it different?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to brush off the question. But she couldn’t. Not when she’d clearly been thinking about the answer for so damn long. “Your brother is brash, almost careless. But you…you…”
Now, it wasn’t just my core that was tightening and swelling. It was regions just below as well.
“Keep talking, Chastity,” I prompted when she sounded like she might trail off. “Tell me what you noticed about me. Tell me what was so important that you’ve kept it locked in your head all these years. Tell me what’s kept me in your fantasies.”
Her jaw fell open. “I-I never said I fantasized about you.”
“But you did, didn’t you?”
She opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Maybe she’d remembered that lying was a sin. Or, more likely, she’d finally realized what a terrible liar she was.
In the end, she shook her head and tried to stand. But I wasn’t about to let that happen.
I kept my grip on her wrist as she made a half-hearted attempt to lift herself off the couch. She didn’t struggle to free herself, though. She didn’t wriggle or twist or try to pull away.
And when I tugged her back down half a second later, she didn’t fight the motion.
Not even when her slight, little frame landed squarely on my lap.
“What is it you want from me, Matteo?” she asked—her face, her lips, just inches from mine.
And here, I’d thought I’d made that perfectly clear.
“I want you.”
Her perfectly pink lips parted as her mouth fell open. For a moment, the only sound that echoed through the room was her breath—short and stuttering. I couldn’t look away as the tip of her tongue peeked out to wet her lower lip.
Finally, after several long seconds, she spoke.
“You can’t have me.”
I lifted my hand to her cheek, twirling that stray, forbidden lock of hair that had come loose around one of my fingers. It felt every bit as silken and soft as I’d imagined.
“Is that right?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. “Because I think if I tried to kiss you right now, you wouldn’t stop me.”
“Matteo…” Her voice was heavy. Breathy. Dripping with the kind of sensual emotions no true innocent would know.
