One hundred and forty-eight

Talia's POV:

I licked my lips, tremors of heat and anxious excitement running through my body. I should be frightened, particularly after our conversation tonight, but I was desperately aroused instead. As perverse as it is, I wanted this too—I wanted the ferocity of his desire, the cruelty of his affection. I wanted to lose myself in the twisted rapture of his embrace, to forget about right and wrong and simply feel. 

"Yes," I whispered, for the first time admitting to my own dark needs—to the aberrant craving he has instilled in me. "Yes, I do . . ."

Heat flared in his eyes, savage and volcanic, and then we were tumbling to the bed in a primal tangle of limbs and flesh. There was no trace of the deceptively gentle lover now, or of the sophisticated sadist who manipulated my mind and body every night. No, this Nicholas was pure male lust, untamed and uncontrolled.