Dirty Thief

“Rowan, stop!” I try to struggle out of his grip, but he gives me a firm shake.

“Answer me! Did you slip out and go into town alone?”

Exhaustion, fear, sadness, anger, all of it twists into a fist of defiance. “YES!” I shout at him. “I wanted to return the necklace.”

I try to twist away again, but his grip tightens. He jerks me forward, so my face is close to his. “You do NOT go anywhere without Hajib!”

My insides flash. “I’m not a child!”

“You could be carrying my child. I have to know you’re safe.”

“Let me GO!” I twist my arms, bending my elbows and pounding my forearms against his. It’s no use, he’s too strong, but I do manage to beat my fists against his chest. “You’re hurting me!”

At those words, his grip relaxes, and something in me snaps. My arms break free, and I pull back and slap him hard. Immediately, my wrists are shackled in his fists again. His nostrils flare, and the place where my hand hit his cheek is turning red.

“Do NOT hit me.” His teeth grind, and his brow lowers.

I’m humiliated and furious, and I don’t want to fight with Rowan. Blinking back tears, I try to get my hands loose. We’re both breathing hard. My chest rises and falls rapidly. Blood pulses fire in my veins, and I only know one thing to do.

I lunge forward and kiss him. His mouth opens, and he pulls me firmly against his chest as he consumes me. His tongue invades my mouth, curling with mine, and in two steps, I’m jammed against the door. My nipples harden. Noises of desire come from my throat. I’m furious with him, but I want him.

He groans, lifting my hands over my head and grasping them both in one fist. The other hand goes down to my leg, catching the edge of my short black dress and jerking it to my waist. I gasp into his mouth as shudders follow in the wake of his hand.

I’m not wearing underwear. I’m so wet, and when he sinks his fingers into me, he exhales a moan against my skin. Two fingers plunge in and out. My hips follow his movements until he takes his hand away, and I hear the noise of his belt buckle, the slide of his zipper.

His mouth is on my jaw, biting the side of my neck. I’m gasping and panting, writhing under his touch. Every bite is fire under my skin. Every kiss shoots electricity through my veins. My entire body vibrates in anticipation.

“Rowan,” I whimper as he grasps my thigh, lifting my leg just before he lowers and drives up, impaling me on his rigid cock.

We both groan loudly. His knees are bent, and he’s thrusting up, sending me higher against the door with every angry push. I whimper, chasing his mouth. I want this so much. I can’t resist this man.

He releases my wrists, and my hands go into his hair, threading and pulling him closer to me. Rough lips are against my jaw, the scruff of beard as he bites my skin, sucking and leaving a mark.

Anger melts into pleasure. The tension twists violently below my waist with every push. His fingers grip my ass, squeezing so hard, I know I’ll bruise. His hands are a vice, hammering me against his pelvis.

I cry out in pain mingled with pleasure. The fluttering starts in the arches of my feet and shoots up my legs, centering in my core. My head drops back, and I moan. My thighs shudder, and he holds me against the door, not moving as he pulses into me. He groans in my ear as he comes, and I feel his heart pounding fast against mine.

At last, his head rests beside my shoulder against the door. I’m in his arms, and we’re both breathing heavily. We’re naked and joined from the waist down. With a deep breath, he raises his head and holds my eyes—blue and green, fire and ice, passionate preference.

Stepping back, he reaches for his pants and pulls them over his hips. My skirt falls, and I don’t move as he restores his clothing.

Residual sparks of anger and passion simmer between us, and his mouth is a straight line. “You are not to go anywhere without Hajib. Or me.”

My eyes flash, and I push away from the door. “I’m going back to Occitan right now. Without you. I’ll stay there u

ntil you come to your senses!”

Spinning, I grasp the doorknob and pull it open. Again, his strong hand closes over my upper arm in a death grip. I’m jerked back into the room and the door slams shut. Turning me around, he pushes my back against it, holding me by both my shoulders.

“Stop acting like a child or I’ll fuck you again.” He’s still not smiling, but the light in his eyes now looks suspiciously like humor.

“Clearly that’s not a deterrent,” I mutter. Still, I’m not ready to concede. “So now that I’m having your baby, I’m to be treated like a baby?”

He exhales, releasing my shoulders and placing his palms against the door, caging me with his arms.

“Yes,” he says simply.

I want to scream, and he starts to laugh, leaning down to lift me in his arms and carry me farther into the suite.