Page 38 of Gilded in Blood

The thought of Michael succeeding, of him hurting this family, of him hurting her, sits like acid in my stomach.

During the attack at the restaurant, my first instinct was to get Milana out. To shield her with my body. Not because it's my job. But because the idea of anything happening to her, of her getting hurt, of losing her… it feels unbearable.

I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Not a single woman. Not once.

And tonight, I asked her to kiss my wound better.

I don’t do kisses. I don’t do tenderness. I don’t do any of this soft shit. But with her, every rule I’ve lived by feels like it’s crumbling.

The way she looked at me when she was cleaning my arm, the way her hand felt pressed against my chest, the way her breath hitched when I held her… it’s driving me insane.

I’m strongly considering doing something I swore I never would.

I’m thinking about switching sides. Betraying Michael. Turning on the man who hired me. Risking my reputation. Everything.

All because of one woman who’s turned my carefully controlled world upside down.

I sit on the couch, staring at the bandage she wrapped around my arm. The first aid kit is still open on the table. I haven’t moved since she ran off to the pool.

I sit on the couch for a few minutes, trying to talk myself out of going after her. Every instinct I have is screaming that if I go up there and see her in a bikini again, my self-control, which is already hanging by a thread, is going to snap.

But my body has other ideas.

I’m on my feet before I can stop myself, ignoring the sharp sting in my shoulder. The skin where she touched me is still tingling. I should be glad she ran off. Instead, I’m regretting that her hands aren’t still on me.

I head up to the rooftop.

The sight that greets me nearly knocks the air out of my lungs.

Milana is standing at the shallow end of the pool in a tiny red bikini that looks even more sinful wet. The fabric clings to her breasts, her nipples visibly hard from the cool water.

Water streams down her body, tracing every curve, every dip of her waist, down her toned legs. She looks like a fucking goddess sent to ruin me.

I sit down on one of the lounge chairs, elbows on my knees, watching her. She notices me immediately and freezes at the edge of the pool.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks.

“Did the pool help cool you down?” I ask, voice low and rough.

She bites her bottom lip, that small, nervous habit that drives me insane, and shakes her head. “No.”

“Huh. Strange. Isn’t cold water supposed to cool you down?”

“Yeah… it should.” Her voice is breathy. “Maybe I should go take a shower instead.”

“That won’t work either.” I lean back slightly, eyes locked on hers. “Come here.”

She hesitates only for a second before obeying, stepping out of the pool and walking over until she’s standing between my spread legs.

She’s so close I can feel the cool droplets falling from her skin onto my thighs. Goosebumps rise all over her arms and stomach.

I stand up and drag my knuckles slowly along the side of her neck, from just behind her ear down to her shoulder. Her skin is silky, and trembling under my touch. She shivers visibly.

Everything in me is screaming to stop. To walk away. But I’m already leaning in.

I press my lips to the side of her neck, right where her pulse is hammering. A soft, breathy moan escapes her. The sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.

That’s it. There’s no going back from this.