Page 47 of Betrothed
The absent strokes continued as his gaze became fixated on something on my bed. But I could sense a powerful need building within him that I wanted so desperately to shove aside even though I knew it wasn’t possible.
He’d entered my bubble, uncertain how to handle me. Not the woman who’d interfered with his bloody mission. If this were anyone else, he’d easily have his men tie weights to my ankles and toss me into the Hudson River. No, the war raging within him was all about the same unyielding hunger that had a sense of taste and smell, both so raw neither one of us wanted to move.
And yet, I hated him for who he was and what he stood for.
With his chest rising and falling, he slowly turned his head toward me. Even my attempt at destroying a portion of his beauty had failed, the spray from the extra can of mace doing no damage to his skin.
His body stiffened and in those few seconds I couldn’t breathe, unable to think clearly.
That’s what he wanted for me, to have me so torn apart inside by the longing that I would stop fighting him. Little did he knowmy resolve was much stronger than his. But that was something I couldn’t show him. Or at least I shouldn’t.
Maybe that’s why when I noticed something snapped within him, I didn’t react.
At least right away.
We were both caught in an unwanted web where refusing the crackling desire seemed as harmful as the situation we’d found ourselves in. With our eyes locking, all else faded away with a similar if not more intense yearning yanking away everything else.
Never blinking, he removed the scarf from around my mouth, rubbing my cheek with the palm of his hand as soon as he did. Very slowly he rolled the rough pad of his thumb along my bottom lip, shifting it back and forth several times before pulling my lip down.
His upper lip curled as he slipped the thick digit inside and without him commanding me, I sucked on his thumb. The man was fascinating in several ways, his desire for me catching us both off guard.
When he was satisfied, he unfastened my wrists, raking a single nail down my arm as he did.
He yanked the top over my head, ripping it from my body. My breath was caught, strangled to the point of near suffocation. The way his jaw clenched was different than before, a man determined to have what he wanted. There was no possibility of shutting him down.
Even if I wanted to.
As horrible as it was that I was here, and no longer in a fighting spirit, the fact that my body was willing to fall prey to him, to feel the same endorphins as before was perhaps the worst thing I’d done in my life.
But I couldn’t stop the madness and he knew it.
He removed my bra without my interference, his breathing as labored as mine. All the tenderness from before failed as he ripped my pants and my thong fully off. With an eagerness I didn’t want, I stepped out of the remainder of my clothes, now standing completely naked in front of a man still fully clothed.
Seconds ticked by.
My pulse racing.
His fingers became weapons of desire as he rolled them down my arms, his head cocked as he shifted them to my hips then down my legs. When he made the slow and easy trail back, his eyes flickering with every flex, I sensed my body swaying as if driven by unheard music.
The way he cupped my face, holding me still while forcing me to study him in the same way he was doing with me erased all fear from my mind. There was too much between us, a type of baggage that couldn’t be shoved aside any more than the physical need eager to swallow us both whole.
With the first brush of his lips against mine, I arched my back. When his tongue swept across the seam of my lips, I clawed his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline, a tethering to keep me from falling into an abyss. And when he captured my mouth, barely moving at first, I no longer cared that this wasn’t only sinful, it was also terribly wrong.
Yet so right.
The kiss was sweet yet powerful, demanding yet yielding, a telling of the thirst I’d sensed in him since he’d caught me in the stairwell.
I kept my eyes cinched closed while he explored my mouth, enjoying the taste that was infusing my senses. His scent was intoxicating, keeping me in a sweet oblivion and the way his tongue dominated mine only added to the excitement. I had no idea what to expect, but I sensed he was in full control.
When he pulled our lips free, he rolled his knuckles under my chin before tenderly wrapping his fingers around my throat. Perhaps a warning that I was his to take and enjoy. But I wasn’t afraid, not of him or what he could do.
His body remained as stiff as mine, the fragrance of his testosterone adding even more excitement.
He twisted me around, pushing me onto all fours on the bed. With a single finger, he traced my spine, taking his time to roll the tip around every vertebra. By the time he reached the bone above my bottom, my whole body was shaking, my core overheated.
I was suddenly shameless in my own needs, my breathing an indication that I was no longer in control of my mind or body. Which was why when I blurted out the way I felt, there was no real sense of shame, only a dark craving that I knew deep inside only he could fulfill.
“Fuck me.” The words stung my lips when I said them. With every stroke of his hand, I was more relaxed than I’d believed possible.
