Stealing Beauty (Stolen 1)

I glanced at Mateo, who had mostly remained a silent spectator. He was watching Adrián, too, a curious light in his eyes. It seemed I wasn’t the only one puzzled by this lighthearted behavior.

Adrián’s hand was gentle on mine where he held it beneath the table, his thumb stroking my palm as he engaged with Jasiel. I would have thought the tender treatment was part of his act, but no one could see how he caressed me.

It was far too tempting to fall into the intimacy he offered. That intimacy wasn’t as sweet as it had been when we were teenagers; this connection burned hotter. I remembered his hands on me this afternoon, holding me against him with a possessive grip as he petted my hair.

He’d soothed me. He’d saved me.

For so long, I’d craved for my savior to return to me. This was a distorted, dark version of what I’d always wanted, but the fantasy fulfillment softened some of my hatred for him. It was hard to cling on to hate when he held my hand so tenderly. When he denied his obvious desire for me. He could have forced me half a dozen times by now.

I don’t want you to fear me. I’m not like them. I remembered his intense words, the ragged edge they’d held. He was holding me captive, but he wasn’t going to violate me. Not like the men who had tried to abuse me in the jungle.

I’d thought I didn’t recognize the cruel man who’d abducted me, but I couldn’t deny that flashes of the adoring boy I’d known were showing through. That boy had been capable of cruelty, too. But he’d cherished me.

I finally finished my cake, setting my fork down after cleaning every trace of icing from the plate. I leaned back against the padded booth, my lids growing heavy as a food coma set in. Despite the fact that I’d slept all afternoon, I wanted to cuddle up with Adrián again.

This needy craving for him was unwise, and definitely unhealthy. But after my emotional drop from the attack by the men who’d tried to rape me, I couldn’t stop myself from desiring more of the comfort Adrián offered.

He eyed me, assessing my sleepy state. “We should go to bed,” he announced. “Dinner was delicious,” he told Jasiel.

She flushed with pleasure and made a little dismissive wave. “I’m happy to cook for you. Sleep well.” Her lips tugged up in a sly smile, and she winked at me.

This time, her implication didn’t stir unease. I was completely confident that Adrián wouldn’t try to fuck me.

He helped me out of the booth and told me to get ready for bed. I returned to the bedroom briefly, finding a toothbrush in his pack. I went into the bathroom and took care of my nightly routine, minus my usual skincare regimen. Ever since I’d turned eighteen, I’d been required to use anti-aging creams; I needed to remain youthful to please my husband. It was vindictive relief not to have to bother with the serums.

Adrián took his turn in the bathroom after me. When he joined me in the bedroom, his breath smelled faintly of mint. My attention dropped to his mouth. I wondered if his lips still tasted the way they used to.

I shook off the thought. I didn’t want to kiss him. His kiss could break me, especially in my emotionally precarious state.

He stripped down to his underwear, revealing his powerful body. I stared, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. His strong physique didn’t frighten me now. Not like it should.

He stared right back at me, his pale eyes glittering as they caught the moonlight streaming through the window. Tension thickened the air between us, and I found myself leaning toward him.

“Take off your jeans,” he murmured, a low command.

My fingers trembled slightly as I unbuttoned my pants. His gaze was sharp, his jaw hard as he watched me slowly peel the jeans down my legs. I stepped out of them, standing before him in just my cotton t-shirt and red lace panties.

I reached for the hem of my shirt, anticipating that he wanted me to strip so he could dress me in the silky nightgown he’d bought for me.

“Just your jeans.” He forestalled me, his voice holding a rough edge.

As I stood, half-naked and puzzled, he leaned down and retrieved his belt from where he’d dropped it on the floor. He speared me in place with a steady stare as he closed the short distance between us.

He folded the belt, touching the leather beneath my chin. My head tipped back at the light pressure, and I found myself trapped by his burning gaze. My lips parted, my breath catching.

His hand smoothed over my hair. “I’m going to punish you now,” he said, his tone dropping to a deeper register.