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With every thrust, my back pushed against the wall, a painful friction that I didn’t want to stop. With every thrust, I moved further up the wall, until I was impaled by his cock, our bodies fused together as one, his finger pressed against my clit.

I grabbed his face, pulling his mouth to mine, my tongue pushing past his as I continued to ride the wave of euphoria.

He pumped. In and out. Around. Harder. Deeper. Faster. He was brutal in the way he took me, rough and punishing as we climbed together, one step then another, closer to our mutual climax.

And then with one brutal howl, he threw his head back and roared between clenched teeth as he spilled his cum inside me.

Proving to me that Demi Cavalho was the best kind of sinner.

A tired laugh slipped out of me.

Demitri’s gaze dropped to my mouth.

We lay side by side on the dusty bed, surrounded by darkness. The mattress sagged beneath our weight, forcing us closer.

His hand lay between us.

I touched the scar crossing his knuckle.

I followed the lines across his hand, each scar another piece of the life he rarely allowed me to see. Near his wrist, a pale mark disappeared beneath his sleeve. I traced the scar with my thumb.

Demitri watched me attentively, his eyes never wavering.

“You should stop,” he warned.

“Do you want me to?”

His fingers closed around mine.

“No.”

The answer moved through me, low and hot.

Demitri closed his eyes. For one brief second, exhaustion crossed his features. When his eyes opened, the restraint inside them had thinned to a fine, fragile thread.

“You’re the first woman I’ve been with in more than ten years.”

His thumb moved beneath my cheekbone. Something dark shifted in his expression.

I turned my face and pressed my lips to the centre of his palm.

His hand slid behind my neck and drew me closer until our foreheads touched. Heat rolled from his body. His breath moved roughly across my mouth, while every muscle in him remained rigid with the effort not to close the remaining distance.

My fingers curled around his wrist.

“Demitri.”

His grip tightened. The hunger in his eyes sharpened until it was almost violent.

“The way you say my name,” he whispered, “Makes me forget who I am, what I am.”

My lips parted.

The phone rang, slicing through the moment.

Irritation flashed across Demitri’s face as he released me and snatched it from the counter before the second ring. By the time he answered, every trace of warmth had vanished. “What?”

It was Raze, whose voice was so full of anger, I could hear the force in it as he admonished Demi for resisting more backup.