She shook her head in denial and clutched her throat. What he suggested was the worst possible outcome, unless... “Are you going to cut me up in little pieces?”
A cold smile tipped his lips as he chuckled. Then his expression sobered. “Walk to the kitchen.”
Fucking psychopath. He stood right in the doorway, taking up the whole damned hall. At over six feet tall with a muscled body cut from stone, he could squash her without breaking a sweat. She didn't want to go near him. He was terrifying. But being forced outside was worse. She straightened her back and headed toward him.
As she slid by, his arm caught her waist and yanked her back against his chest. She slapped at his hand, bucking against him, and his arm clenched tighter. His erection jabbed against her backside, his breath hot at her ear. “Fighting and squirming only turns me on. Don't stop.”
She immediately stilled. God, he wasn't lying. His dick was undeniably more pronounced against her back. Feeling him like that, so close, so huge and hard, rushed heat between her legs and prickles over her skin. Why, oh why was she responding this way? She hated and wanted it, and mother of all fucks, she couldn't have been more completely and totally out of her mind.
She drew a ragged breath. Think, think, think. But his intention blatantly rubbed against her, scattering her thoughts. “You're going to rape me, aren't you?”
His torso moved up and down with his breath. “I thought you wanted to be fuck buddies. Don't make it weird.”
“What? Oh no. Nononononono. I'm not offering now!” Her voice shrilled, and her elbows rammed into his ribs. “This is me saying ‘No’.”
Restraining her with an arm around her chest, he pulled off a glove with his teeth and shoved his hand down the front of her jeans, beneath her panties. She gasped and tried to reach for the gun at his back. The glove dropped to the floor as he kept his back twisted away and the brace of his massive arm effectively immobilizing her movements.
The fingers in her jeans descended with strength and determination. They slid over her mound, between her lips, reaching, curling, and oh God, fucking her. He pressed his palm over her *, his fingers hooking inside her. The grip yanked her back, grinding her ass against his erection.
Her inner muscles pulsated around the invasion, clenching and shameless. She wanted to cry, knowing how wet she was, humiliated that he was swirling through the depraved evidence of her frail mind and touching her in a place she never wanted anyone to see.
“Please.” She squeezed her thighs together, tried to angle her hips away from his fingers. “Please, I don't want this.”
He thrust harder and twisted his fingers inside her. “Your cunt disagrees.” Without warning, he yanked his hand from her pants and shoved his fingers in her mouth, pressing down on her tongue and jaw. The tang of her arousal mixed with her saliva as he angled her jaw with his hand, forcing her cheek against his chest and shoving his face into hers.
Every human being had a cruel side, but as she looked into the blackness behind his eyes, she didn't see a facet of varying traits. She saw the entire man. He was cruelty incarnate.
He released her, and she stumbled. He reached out to catch her arm, but she jerked away, refusing to be dragged. He grabbed his glove from the floor, slid it on, and gestured toward the kitchen. “After you.”
His soft gait followed closely behind her. She tried to focus on a plan, a useful weapon, anything but the way her wanton body was reacting to the feel of him behind her, around her, dominating her space.
He stopped beside the kitchen sink and set the tablet on the counter. “Get me a glass of water.”
Apparently, breaking-and-entering, fucking with women, and being an all-round asshole made him thirsty. “The water is shut off.” She couldn't stop the flush of humiliation that crept up her neck.
The look of detachment on his face irritated her as much as it frightened her. “I bet you prepared for that. Open the fridge.”
Her molars crashed together as she stormed to the fridge and yanked out one of the four pitchers of water. When she finished pouring a glass, he tugged a baggie from his pocket and dumped the powdered contents into the water, stirring it with a gloved finger. “Drink.”
“No way.” She backed away from him with rasping breaths. “What is it?”
In the next heartbeat, he was on her, chest-to-chest, arms around her back, hauling her to the sliding door. He yanked the shades aside, and the blinding light of the backyard set her skin on fire and her heart into overdrive.