Page 99 of Reaper's Desire

We dance for a long time, moving through the crowd like we're the only two people in the world. He spins me, dips me, pulls me close, and grinds against me until I'm breathless and aching. "You're so fucking beautiful," Julian says, his mouth against my ear. "Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me?"

I press closer, feeling the hard length of him against my stomach. "I have some idea."

He groans, his fingers digging into my hips. "We should get out of here."

"Already?"

"If we don't leave now, I'm going to fuck you right here on this dance floor."

The words send a bolt of heat straight through me. "That doesn't sound like the worst idea to me."

"Isabelle—"

I pull back just enough to look at him, seeing the raw desire burning in his eyes, the barely controlled need that's been building all night. "Okay," I whisper. "Let's go."

He doesn't waste time. His hand finds mine, and he pulls me through the crowd. We pass the bar, the lounge areas, the clusters of people laughing and drinking and dancing, and then we're outside in the warm Ibiza night.

Julian pulls me close and kisses me hard, his hands in my hair, his body pressed against mine. I kiss him back with everything I have, tasting the whiskey on his tongue, feeling thedesperate need in the way he holds me. "Villa," he growls against my mouth. "Now."

As soon as we make it back, we stumble inside, hands everywhere, mouths desperate and demanding. He kicks the door shut behind us and walks me backward toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss. "I need you," I gasp against his mouth. "Julian, I need?—"

"I know." His hands find the zipper of my dress and pull it down in one smooth motion. "I know, baby. I've got you."

The dress falls to the floor, and I'm standing in front of him in nothing but black lace and heels. His eyes go dark as he takes me in, his gaze traveling slowly from my face down to my toes and back up again. "Fuck," he breathes. "You're perfect."

I reach for his shirt, unbuttoning it with shaking fingers. "Your turn."

He helps me, shrugging out of the shirt and tossing it aside. His chest is bare and beautiful, all lean muscle and golden skin, and I run my hands over him greedily. We make it to the bedroom somehow, shedding the rest of our clothes along the way. By the time we reach the bed, we're both naked and desperate, our bodies pressed together as we fall onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs.

Julian rolls me onto my back and settles between my thighs, his weight pressing me into the soft sheets. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer, feeling the hard length of him against my entrance. "Please," I whisper. "Julian, please?—"

He groans, wrapping his hand around himself to angle his cock against me. He pushes inside in one smooth thrust, and we both moan. He's so deep like this, filling me completely, and I arch my back and dig my nails into his shoulders as he starts to move. "God, you feel good," he groans, his forehead pressed against mine. "So fucking good, Isabelle. So perfect."

I can't speak. I cling to him as he fucks me with deep, powerful strokes that make my toes curl and my vision blur. He knows exactly how I like it—hard and fast, just rough enough to make me lose my mind.

"Touch yourself," he commands, his voice rough. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

I slide my hand between us and find my clit, circling it with shaking fingers. The added sensation makes me cry out, my body tightening around him.

"That's it," he groans. "Fuck, that's it, baby. You're so close. I can feel it."

He's right. I'm already on the edge, my body wound so tight I think I might shatter. A few more strokes and I'll be gone, lost in the pleasure that only he can give me.

But then he slows down. His thrusts turn deliberate and measured, and when I open my eyes in confusion, I find him staring at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

"Julian?" My voice is shaky. "What?—"

He reaches for something on the nightstand, his movements careful, and when he brings his hand back, I see it.

A ring. A beautiful, glittering, oval diamond ring that catches the moonlight streaming through the window.

My heart stops.

"Isabelle." His voice is rough with emotion, and he's still inside me, still moving in slow, deliberate thrusts that make it hard to think. "I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anything in my life."

I can't breathe. I can't do anything but stare at him as tears start to blur my vision.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he continues, his free hand cupping my face. "You're the reason I'm still alive. The reason I want to be better. The reason I believe in second chances."