Beauty in Deception

He circles my clit with the pad of his thumb before tracing my opening. The feeling is foreign. I shiver.

Satisfaction bleeds into his eyes. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

It shouldn’t. I don’t want it to. His gentleness hurts me. It doesn’t leave marks on my skin, but it punishes me deep inside where it matters. I try to pull my wrists free, but he holds me easily while tracing the outline of my folds. The anticipation that builds in my lower body is unfamiliar. So is the sudden shortness of breath that won’t let me drag air into my lungs. My lips part when he uses the heel of his palm to put pressure on my clit, but I swallow my sounds. My knees buckle. It’s not that I’m giving up. It just hurts worse when you fight.

“Come,” he says, his gaze burning on my face. Determination is etched on his features.

I don’t know if it’s the way he’s watching me or the insistent rubbing of his hand between my legs, but with him it’s different. My abdomen tightens, and my sex clenches. Pleasure runs like electric sparks under my skin. Like he ordered, I climax. For a moment, I’m not here. I’m nowhere. For the most blissful of moments, I’m not confined to a room or man’s will.

I’m free.

Then he lets go.

Coldness wraps around me.

Without the support of his hand between my thighs, I sag against the wall.

He leans closer and inhales deeply. “I can smell how wet you are. Such a greedy little whore.”

I’m many things, but I’m not that. The anger he evoked a short moment before is nothing compared to the fury that blurs my vision, now. Pulling back my head, I spit in his face.

He freezes.

The danger and cruelness I recognized are reflected in his russet eyes, yet he doesn’t as much as flinch. Instead of lashing out like I expected, his control snaps into place. The calculated restraint before he searched me out with liquor on his breath is back.

Wiping the wetness from his cheek with the back of his hand, he releases my wrists and says with a cool smile, “Go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Not sparing me another glance, he walks from the room. The banging of the door follows two seconds later.

Shaking with anger and aftershocks from my release, I let the wall support my weight. The truth has never been easy for me. I’ve always battled to face myself in the mirror.

I don’t even really care that he thinks I’m a whore. I’m angrier about the fact that he took my first orgasm and turned it into a weapon.

CHAPTER 6

Roman

* * *

This is moving too fast. What the fuck was I thinking?

Spearing my fingers through my hair, I go to my room.

I wanted to ruin her, but she’s already ruined.

That’s not what’s eating me. It’s the need to kill the motherfucker who took her virginity. It should’ve been mine. It had always been mine to steal. Of course, I didn’t share that gritty detail of my plan with Mateo or Andrew. I’m not sure they would’ve gone along with the abduction if they knew.

I kick the door shut.

Warren knows, that motherfucker. He knows and he promised Stone a virgin. Lying sack of shit. That doesn’t come as a surprise. What excuse was he going to make up? That Evie tore her hymen while riding a horse?

No matter. What’s important is the end goal.

The bandages and other medical supplies Andrew fetched sit on the coffee table. I should give Evie that shot and the antibiotic, but I’m too worked up to face her. I need time to cool down. What I should be doing is catching some sleep. I need a clear head, tomorrow. Yet the cooped-up frustration won’t let me.

After stripping the covers stained with blood and dirt from the bed and making it with clean linen, I’m still agitated. Exchanging my jeans and sweater for exercise gear, I go to the gym in the summer house and punish my body for the next hour with a strenuous workout.

When sweat stains my T-shirt, I call it a night. I have a quick shower in the bathroom adjoining the gym and change into a clean T-shirt and sweatpants. I keep a few changes of clothes there so that I don’t have to walk naked to the house after my shower. Not bothering with a jacket, I head back to the house. It’s a short distance, hardly enough to feel the cold.

On my way to my room, I stop in front of Evie’s door. She’s dangerous, this delicate woman. She’s like a fucking magnet.

Despite my better judgment, I open the door. She’s sitting on the bed, staring at the window. She’s dressed in one of the outfits I bought for her—a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. I meant what I said. I liked the way my clothes looked on her. Naked, I like her even better.