✓ WICKED VOWS| JAKE (Book II )

28-Oil and Sweat

Jake's pov

I had always been the man who read the rules before breaking them, but last night, I shattered every rule I had ever made. Everything about her was uncanny and demonic, yet morbidly fascinating. My obsession with human bodies had taken a darker turn, and now, her body—the body of my duty—was the most mesmerizing. The burns on my hands still lingered where I had touched her; she scorched my skin like a match. But she was a cold match. I wonder how she would feel without the alcohol's numbing effect. I'm glad the first woman I soul-touched was her. She seared my insides with her words and hands, while her eyes ignited the twisted feelings within me. But guess what? I am no longer a virgin man.

I watched her through the security cameras all night. Sleep eluded her, and when it did come, it was barely for two or three hours. She was at her bike again, tinkering with something that probably didn't need fixing. She had been at it since six in the morning, right after her five o'clock jog in her high-collared top, shorts, and baseball cap paired with her Sambarose Core Blacks.

Minutes slipped by before I made my way to the garage, ready to take my car out. David was waiting outside to drive me today. Anna was struggling with a stubborn piece, finally wrenching it free and straightening up. She set her cap down on a nearby bench, wiping her sweaty face with the back of her arm.

Beneath her top, she wore only a plain sports bra, now soaked with sweat. Her lean, strong arms and the defined muscles along her torso were a testament to her relentless fitness. The sports bra clung to her full, soft breasts, accentuating her toned physique, while her shorts, daringly short, allowed her effortless movement.

Her presence was a study in raw, unfiltered strength, an allure that was both captivating and intimidating. She was a storm, barely contained, and the garage felt charged with her electric energy.

"You could have sent it to a bike repair station. Why the nuisance?" I voiced my presence, my tone a mix of curiosity and provocation.

"Keep your opinions to yourself, Your Highness," she replied, not even bothering to look up.

"Why don't you trust anyone with your bike?" I pressed, stepping closer, drawn to the dark magnetism that surrounded her.

"Because. Now, grab your car and find another subject to focus on," she snapped, her words sharp enough to cut.

"And here I thought you were interested in being the subject of my desires last night," I drawled calmly, my voice a silken whisper of dark intentions.

She suddenly put the socket wrench down and turned to face me. Her forest-green eyes locked onto mine, devoid of the anger I expected. Instead, there was a cold, unsettling calm. She believed last night had been a mistake, a fleeting lapse in judgment.

But I could still feel the ghost of her touch, the lingering heat of her body against mine. The memory of her fiery defiance and the burn of her skin haunted me, a siren call that I couldn't resist. Her eyes bore into mine, challenging, daring me to break the rules once more.

"I needed a release last night. You were there, so it happened. I don't see myself running around hooking up with other men while being married to you, Jake Salvatore. As you said, we don't want any scandals," she finished, her voice laced with a bitter frustration that echoed in the stillness of the garage.

"You've said it before; you were the queen of deception."

Her eyes narrowed, a storm brewing behind them. "What do you mean?" she asked, her tone icy and defensive.