Page 136 of Vow Of Fire

“Fuck…”

The soft heat of her mouth nearly undid me on the spot. She looked up at me while she took me deeper, emerald eyes glittering beneath dark lashes, and something primal twisted violently inside my chest.

God, I loved this woman.

The thought hit hard, drowning out everything else.

I watched her work me slowly, deliberately, like she enjoyed seeing me struggle to stay in control. Every flick of her tongue sent another brutal wave of pleasure through me until my muscles began locking tight beneath my skin.

I was getting too close.

Way too fucking close.

“Ophelia,” I warned roughly, my voice strained. I wasn’t sure what I was asking.

She hummed softly around me in response. Deliberately teasing.

Christ.

My hand tightened in her hair and I pulled her gently back before I completely lost my mind. Her lips slipped free with a soft pop that nearly finished me by itself. She blinked up at me, flushed and beautiful and looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“Why’d you stop me?” she asked softly.

Because you’re dangerous for me.

Because I’m seconds away from falling apart in your hands.

Because I don’t know how to survive wanting someone this much.

Instead, I slid my thumb slowly across her swollen lower lip and said darkly, “I want to come inside you.”

“You can. In my mouth. I want to taste you,” she pleaded, a soft flush spreading across her cheeks. “Like you did me.”

Christ. The hunger in her voice hit me harder than it should have. Hard enough to crack something open in my chest that I’d spent years keeping buried beneath violence and control.

And suddenly, with terrifying clarity, I saw exactly how dangerous this had become.

Not for her.

For me.

Because somewhere along the way, this woman had stopped being a distraction and become a weakness. One my enemies would exploit without hesitation. One that could bring me to my knees if I wasn’t careful.

I’d spent my entire life making sure nobody had that kind of power over me.

Yet here I was, seconds away from handing it to her willingly.

Then my phone rang. The sharp sound cut through the charged silence. I glanced down and saw the caller ID. It was Valentina.

36

THE SACRIFICIAL PAWN

Dante

Valentina didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“They retaliated,” she said the moment I answered. I didn’t have to ask who “they” were. She wouldn’t mention the Colombian cartel by name on the phone.