Chapter 4 - The Whispers in the Dark
We returned to the penthouse at midnight. The air inside the private elevator was charged with an explosive, dizzying tension.
The moment the elevator doors slid open into the penthouse foyer, Niko grabbed my waist, lifting me slightly off my feet, and pinned my back gently against the wood-paneled wall.
"Niko..." I gasped, my hands instinctively resting on his broad shoulders.
"Did you mean it?" Niko demanded, his voice rough and breathless, his gray eyes searching every inch of my face. "What you said to Vincent. 'I am a Santoro now.'"
"I don't lie, Niko," I breathed out, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "I might have been forced into this contract, but I don't break my word."
Niko dropped his head into the crook of my neck, breathing in deeply. His hands gripped my hips, his body warm and impossibly strong against mine.
"I tried to stay away from you, Evelyn," Niko admitted, his voice a low, gravelly confession. "I told myself you were an innocent child dragged into my bloody world. I told myself I would protect you and let you go when your father's debts were cleared."
He lifted his head, his dark eyes burning with pure, unadulterated desire. "But you aren't a child. You are stronger than any woman I have ever met. And I am losing my mind trying not to touch you."
A wave of heat surged through my body. The fear that had gripped me on my wedding night was completely gone, replaced by a fierce, undeniable yearning for the dangerous man holding me against the wall.
"Then stop trying," I whispered.
Niko let out a low growl. He captured my lips in a deep, possessive kiss that consumed everything in its path. His mouth was demanding yet exquisite, teaching me a language I had never spoken before.
He lifted me into his arms, carrying me down the dark hallway toward the master bedroom.
He set me down gently on the silk sheets of the grand bed, his dark eyes never leaving mine as he shed his suit jacket and tie.
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When he joined me on the bed, his touch was impossibly gentle. His large hands traced the line of my collarbone, unzipping my emerald gown with slow, reverent precision. He mapped every inch of my body as if I were something sacred, taking his time to ensure every touch brought pleasure rather than fear.
When he finally united us, his gray eyes were fixed on mine, holding my gaze through every breath, every surge of passion, until the boundary between us completely dissolved into the night.
