“That’s where you’re wrong.” His grip softened. He reached up with one hand, touched my cheek.
I jerked away.
I didn’t know which part he meant—about my father, or about me.
“What if I don’t want to play your game?”
“It doesn’t matter. I can keep your locked away down here forever. You’ll be safe and comfortable until everything’s finished. All I need is proof of our marriage, which I have. That’ll be enough to get what I want.”
“Enough for your revenge.”
“That’s right.” He tilted his head, leaned closer. “What would you give to make those that hurt you the most pay for their crimes?”
I closed my eyes. The knife across my stomach. The crunch of bone and skull beneath a car tire. “I don’t know. It doesn’t help. Revenge won’t fix anything.”
“No, but it’ll make me feel good.”
He came closer and released my other wrist. I stared at him, not moving, as he looked into my eyes, his heavy body leaning over mine, all that muscle, all that incredible skin.
I didn’t know how a man could be so gorgeous on the outside and so rotten beneath the surface.
“I don’t want to be part of your game.”
“You’re not a toy to me.”
“Then why do you call me little doll?” I sneered at him, tiled my chin up. “That’s right, I asked Roza.”
He smiled and reached up. He stroked my cheek with his thumb then ran it down my lower lip. It took all my discipline to keep from letting out a moan.
“There’s a difference between something to be used and discarded and something to be kept and cherished.”
“This isn’t how you treat something you care about.”
“You clearly don’t know me at all.”
He kissed my neck. All that self-control disappeared and a soft groan escaped my lips.
He forced me into a marriage I didn’t want and he was dragging me back into the life I worked so hard to leave behind. I should scream at him and rage and fight as hard as I could to get away.
Instead, when his lips came up to mine, I bit hard.
And he only groaned in return as he shoved my legs wide open and his fingers rolled against my hot wetness.
I bit down harder. Tasted blood. He grabbed the edge of my bathing suit bottoms and pulled.
I released him and gasped in shock. I reached down to cover the scar, but it was too late.
He saw and his eyes burned with something I didn’t recognize.
“Don’t hide from me, little doll.” He grabbed my wrists and pulled them away.
I struggled. “No, please.”
He spit blood onto the tile then kissed my stomach. I tried to pull away, tried to cover the scar—that ugly gash cutting me in half—as he kissed down, closer and closer. He left a trail of blood until he reached the jagged, puckered skin.
He kissed every inch of it, from one end to the other. I felt his warm, soft lips and tongue, and he left more blood.
I leaned my head back and moaned.
Nobody touched me like that. Nobody looked at my scar. I never let someone near it before, let alone kiss my private shame. He had no clue what the scar was or what it meant to me, but he didn’t seem to care.
“Perfect,” he murmured. “Delicious. Look at you. He kissed down, heading to my pussy, and released my wrists.
I grabbed his hair and pulled hard.
He grunted in surprised and looked up. His eyes were fire, lightning, a raging storm.
“Please,” I said, not sure what I mean.
He slammed his lips against mine.
I tasted his blood. I wanted to bite him again. Instead, he pushed my legs open and his fingers rolled along my soaking pussy lips. I moaned and shuddered at the sudden jolt of pleasure. His fingers moved along my clit, teasing me, spreading my juices all around—
Before he sank two deep inside.
“Oh god,” I said into his mouth.
He rubbed my clit with his thumb as he fucked me with his fingers. He kissed my chest and reached up to untie my top.
My fingers tightened, but I didn’t stop him.
“Look at you,” he said, staring at my breasts the bikini fell forward. I let it slide off before pushing myself back against the wall. His fingers felt like heaven as he fucked me with them, thumb rolling up against my swollen clit in pure bliss.
He looked at me like I was a treasure, like I was a goddess. His gaze roamed down to my scar—god, that scar, that ugly fucking scar—then back up to my breasts. He licked my nipples, bit them gently, sucked them harder, and fucked my pussy faster, and I moaned loud enough to fill the room with my pleasure, my hips moving, all anger forgotten in bliss.
But he stopped, pulled back. I groaned in surprise and anger. I was so close to release, needed him to keep going—