His agonized roar rattles the walls, and his fist slams against floor beside my head. Arched over me, he holds himself up, his arms shaking with the force of his rage.
Then breath by breath, he reels it in.
Stillness settles through his muscles, and his eyes soften into molten blue glass.
My heart stops and restarts, galloping into a frenzied tempo. He’s so damn gorgeous. So potently masculine and intimidating I sink my teeth into my lip to stifle my plea to be fucked.
Don’t give in. Don’t give in.
I swing my fists and kick out a leg, hitting air. But my traitorous body wants, wants, wants. My pussy throbs and heats as he wedges his hips between my thighs and swats away my punching strikes.
“Say it, Danni.” His hooded gaze dips, taking in the length of my body, the spread of my legs, the heave of my chest, and the pulse in my throat. It’s a slow-burning perusal, full of sin and venom and promise. “Tell me no, if you don’t want this.”
The room fades away, and my brain malfunctions. Everything narrows to the rugged angles of his face and the intensity sharpening his cheekbones. For a man who can’t be controlled, he’s completely possessed by the grip of his desire.
I’m right there with him, consumed by the same suffocating fire. There’s only one way to quench this need, and it isn’t the word no.
I try to say it anyway, attempt to make my lips form the sane response, but that’s not what tumbles out. “I need you.”
“You have no idea how long I wanted to hear that.” He reaches for his fly, his other hand tangling in my hair and angling my head back to hold my gaze. “I love you so damn much.”
The sound of his zipper echoes in my ears, and I whimper.
Why can’t I fight this? I can’t stop my hands from reaching between us, fumbling over his in my urgency to pull him out.
He fits his cock at my entrance and looks me in the eyes. A swallow sticks in the back of my throat, and I grip his shoulders, trembling, panting. Please.
He thrusts, and we groan together, trembling as one in our relief. Burying himself as deeply as possible, he stretches me, fills me up, and makes me burn.
Then he fucks me, grunting like a feral caveman and hissing past clenched teeth. He’s a hurricane of fury and aggression, slamming his cock rapidly, violently, and punishing my mouth with deep bruising kisses.
God help me, I forgot what this feels like, the exquisite sensation of being taken, dominated, and fucked into mindless oblivion. It’s been three years. Three of the longest years of my life, and what a way to break the fast.
In that stunned moment, my mind blocks out how I got here, too absorbed by the cock stroking inside me, the tongue in my mouth, and the hands sweeping over my body. We’re longing and lust, sweat and muscle, skin on skin, two beasts in a mating dance, panting, clawing at clothes, and stabbing nails into flesh.
I rip open his shirt, pinging buttons across the floor. With a labored grunt, he tears it off his arms and flings it. There’s an undershirt beneath, baring bulges of biceps and pumped veins over muscle. I want to see more of him, but he attacks my dress, pounds his hips, and tears my strapless bodice down the center.
Breathing heavily and gnashing his teeth, he ravages my breast. His lips are firm and forceful, sucking my skin and leaving his mark. Then he starts to bite. Hard.
Panic rises, shattering my hungry trance. I shove his mouth from my nipple and thrash beneath him.
His eyes flash to mine, and he growls a low, combative noise.
“So damn feisty.” His thrusts quicken, hammering with urgency. “God, yes… Yes…” He doesn’t look away, his moans gravelly and hoarse. “You feel unbelievable. Fucking heaven.”
It shouldn’t feel this good. I should be repulsed and fighting him off. He fucking spanked me! How did I let this happen?
I grip his ass to stop his movements, but the muscles flex harder against my palms with each drive of his hips.
He’s a frenzy of testosterone, pounding into me like a lust-fueled piston. His eyes never leave mine, watching me, worshiping me with that ice-blue stare as his long fingers slide between us and clamp onto my clit.
My spine arches off the floor, and my legs shake against a flood of intoxicating pleasure.
“That’s it.” He circles and rubs my bundle of nerves, spiraling me toward the crest. “You’re going to come now.”
His other hand wraps around my throat, and that does it. The heart-pounding pressure against my airway ignites fireworks across my vision and shoves me into a climax so explosive I feel like I’m shattering into a million pieces.
“There’s my girl.” His thrusts lose rhythm, jerking and deepening. “Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
My head falls back as I catch my breath, panting and moaning beneath the erratic stab of his hips. His hand slides from my throat to my face and pulls my mouth to his. Then he kisses me.
This kiss is different, lacking the usual hostility. It’s affectionate and tender, full of soul-stirring languish. I melt against his lips, feeding, sipping, falling into the gentle slide, the roaming strokes, and the ecstasy of love.
I love him, but I don’t forgive him. And as he comes, I see it all in his eyes—his pain and pleasure, remorse and devotion, heartache and passion. He said he loves me, too, but he ruined it.
“Danni.” He chokes, groaning deeply, gutturally, his entire body shaking as he grinds against me and pants through his release.
As he comes down, his forehead drops to mine, and he holds me, nuzzles my neck, his hands caressing my face.
The urge to curl in on myself shakes my shoulders. What have I done? What am I going to do now? I can’t be with him. I can’t love him.
When he lifts his head, his expression’s dazed, shocked, like he can’t believe he’s here, that he did this, with me.
He looks spooked.
My chest clenches as he pulls out and tucks himself away. I never saw his cock. He didn’t even take off his slacks, and now he’s avoiding my eyes.
“Trace?” I pull the ruined dress around my nudity, reaching for something, anything to say. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t…” Can’t be alone right now. “We should talk.”
With his back to me, he collects his clothes from the floor. Then he stands there, facing away. No chin raised in victory. No whispered apologies. Just a distant man, sullied with the come of two women. And, in the dissonance of my breaking heart, his silence.
His hand clenches at his side and releases. A jagged breath, and he strides out the door.
My insides cave in, beaten and bruised. As much as I want to call out to him and beg him to stay, I won’t. I’m not his girl.
The door shuts behind him, and the hollow sound of desertion ricochets through me. I roll toward the mirrored wall, tucking my knees to my chest. Pressure builds in my head, and the stupid tears spring up with a vengeance.
I’ve never felt so used, so…thrown away. But I’m just as much to blame. I could’ve said no.