Chapter 51: Pure Desire

Abraham’s POV

I laid on the hotel bed, unable to relax for even a second.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows across the cracks in the ceiling, but my eyes were locked on nothing.

My muscles refused to relax.

My mind wouldn’t shut off.

I was in full alert mode—like when I’m deep in the jungle on a mission, surrounded by enemies, waiting for the first shot to break the silence.

But this time, the enemy was different.

Valastro.

Fuck.

Knowing that bastard was behind all this movement—it ate me alive. I already suspected, but seeing his nephew casually attending a meeting with high-level mafiosos? That was the confirmation I needed.

That wasn’t coincidence.

That was strategy.

That was a threat.

And I knew Valastro well enough to know he doesn’t move unless it’s to destroy.

"Son of a bitch..." I muttered, rubbing my hand over my face. My fingers dragged across the scarred skin. It burned—not physically. Memory.

It wasn’t just a memory of our first face-off.

Now… now it was tied to the woman who’d completely fucked with my peace.

Celeste.

I shut my eyes.

The irony was so cruel it almost made me laugh.

I’d saved a teenage girl years ago, and now… now I couldn’t stop wanting—

Wanting things I had no business wanting.

Feeling shit I never thought I’d feel again.

I swallowed hard and got up.

Sat down at the desk and opened the laptop.

Logged into the secure line and typed out a message to Sebastian.

ABRAHAM:

“Confirmed: Julian Valastro spotted meeting with top-tier mafiosos. I need someone to check the maximum security prison in Nevada. I want visual and audio confirmation that Anton is still locked up.”

SEBASTIAN (replying instantly):

“Got it. I’ll activate an inside contact. Stay sharp. If Julian’s moving, it’s not without reason.”

I shut the laptop.

Sat back on the bed.

But the weight on my chest didn’t let up.

Even after giving orders, even knowing we were one step ahead.

Because no matter how focused I should’ve been on Valastro and the threat level of this op...

All I could think about was her.

Celeste.

That mouth.

That stifled moan.

The way she looked at me like she was already mine.

The taste of her still etched in my memory like ink under my skin.

I cursed under my breath and went straight to the bathroom.

Ripped off my clothes, cranked the shower to ice cold, shoved my head under the stream.

I was trying to numb my body.

Erase the thoughts.

Extinguish the fire.

But it didn’t work.

Her image was still there.

Legs open.

Voice begging.

That need in her eyes.

And my fucking craving to give her everything.

I pressed both hands against the cold tile wall and shut my eyes, letting the water run down my back.

I breathed deep.

Hard.

Nothing.

Fuck.

The desire I had for her was stronger than reason.

Stronger than guilt.

Stronger than fear.

I’m a trained agent.

Built to resist torture, pressure, the worst of humanity.

But one thought of her—and I fall apart.

I finished the shower, dried off in a rush, threw the towel across the bed, pulled on some loose joggers and a black tee. But it didn’t help.

I was still hard—like my body was screaming what my mind refused to admit.

I paced the room for a bit.

Grabbed my balaclava.

Then my eyes landed on my phone sitting on the dresser.

I picked it up.

Stared at the screen.

Thought about not doing it.

Thought about ignoring it, focusing, getting some sleep.

But...

Fuck it.

I tapped “Call.”

The excuse was to check on my kids.

The truth?

I needed to see her face.

It rang twice before she answered.

The screen lit up with her bedroom, dimly lit by a soft lamp.

Then she appeared—

Hair down.

Clean skin.

Sleepy eyes.

Black nightgown.

Short.

Jesus.

"Whaaaaat…" she groaned, eyes still shut.

"You answered without even checking who it was?" I asked, raising a brow.

"Mr. De Montreal?" she mumbled, surprised.

My throat dried up.

Just hearing my name from her lips, and my dick throbbed all over again.

"Expecting someone else?" My voice came out lower than I intended.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, voice raspy and half-whispered—and fuck me, it hit like a punch to the gut. "Are you coming back?"

I closed my eyes for a second.

Breathe, goddammit.

"The kids okay? I called to check on them," I said, forcing myself to stay on track—even as my eyes did the exact opposite.

"They’re… asleep." She shifted the phone, trying—and failing miserably—to hide the neckline of that damn nightgown. "Do you… want me to wake them?"

I didn’t answer.

I just watched the flush rise on her skin when she realized where my gaze had landed.

"Mr. De Montreal?"

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"That." I pointed at the screen, where her hand was still tugging uselessly at the fabric. "Trying to fucking kill me."

She swallowed hard.

I saw the movement in her throat, the heat rising in her neck.

My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white.

"I wasn’t… I just…"

"Move your hand."

She froze.

"…What?"

"Move. Your. Hand." Each word landed like a shot. "Let me see."

She hesitated. Bit her bottom lip.

Fuck.

"Don’t fucking do that," I growled, feeling the zipper of my pants dig into me. "You know what this does to me."

"What… what does it do to you?" Her voice was low now. Almost teasing.

I leaned forward slightly, exhaling hard, then sat down on the edge of the bed, still gripping the phone.

"Makes me want you like fucking crazy, Celeste. That’s what."

She didn’t move.

Just sat there, breathing heavier, those dark eyes locked on mine.

"And what do you want to do about it?" she whispered.

My jaw clenched.

I let out a dry laugh, finally done pretending I had control.

"What I want to do?" I said, voice dropping even lower. "Bend you over that bed and rip that damn nightgown off with my teeth."

A soft moan slipped out of her. Barely there. But real.

"But what I will do," I continued, shifting in my seat, "is remind myself that there are two kids asleep just down the hall. And you’re there to look after them. Not to drive me insane."

She didn’t say anything.

Then, slowly, she moved her hand away from the neckline.

"And what if… I’m not just here to look after them?" she asked.

My blood

ran hot.

"Are you serious right now?"

She nodded, lips parted, breathing uneven.

I leaned closer, my face filling most of the screen.

"I was with you at the pool, Celeste. You know exactly what I’d do."