Wild Heir (Fated Royals 4)

I’d be no freer with Vasile, the older, wiser, probably more cunning criminal, than I would be with Petre who I knew would take out his frustrations on me every chance he got. I wanted nothing to do with their criminal sort.

What use, indeed?

“You want to marry him?” Vasile asked in a tone that was more of a challenge than a question.

“I don’t want to marry him,” I said softly, my chest heaving with every breath. “I can’t stand the sight of him…him or….” I trailed off. An hour ago, I’d have finished that thought with or you.

But I knew that would be a lie. Despite everything he was, I was mesmerized by Vasile’s presence, and deeply attracted to him in every single way. As much as I hated to admit it, I wanted him. And my body did as well.

I shifted my weight, feeling the thump, thump of my pulse along with a slick wetness between my legs. Never before had I felt my heartbeat down so low. So decadent and tawdry, yet I clenched my muscles there, willing the new feelings to gather instead of retreat.

His eyes flicked down as if he knew and then back up to meet my gaze as I swallowed hard, urging my skin not to flush and my breaths to remain even as I knew both were betraying me.

I could have him. If I wanted to, I could seduce this man who probably only wanted me because I belonged to his brother. Did they fight over toys as children, just as they would fight over a woman now? Each wanting to possess the thing he cannot have?

And could I—would I—dare use Vasile to escape the clutches of a marriage I neither asked for nor wanted?

I could. I could do it. I could use my body to that end. My father even said I had that womanly power.

Seduce the brother, lose my virginity, become a damaged, unwanted prize. Let them fight each other if they wanted to while I flee. Surely, if he no longer wanted me, it would be Petre’s choice and then possibly the debt forgiven as my father would still be more than willing to hand me over.

“I don’t want to marry him,” I repeated, steeling myself. Was I really about to do this? “I don’t want him.”

I inched closer, the inflection in my last word lingering between us. Casting aside doubt, I reached out and lightly touched his arm.

And that was all it took.

He let out a low growl of desire and pulled me into him, his massive hand on the small of my back. His careless stubble grazed my cheek, and I felt the heat of his breath against my skin. I swallowed hard and felt my lips quiver.

“I…” His jaw worked without sound for a moment, before he shook his head, looking deep into my eyes, into my soul. “I can’t do it. I won’t…” For a moment, I thought he was talking about family loyalty, struggling with the idea of betraying his brother, but I was wrong. “I won’t leave you here for my fucking brother,” he said, and finished his thought with a kiss.

And what a kiss it was. I was stunned at first, stunned at his harshness and confidence.

The room spun and I hung on to his broad shoulders. Even through his thick coat, his biceps tightened with tension as he held me close.

I was helpless to the moan that escaped my lips as he swept my tongue aside with his, keeping me wanting more and more, deeper and deeper. The more I kissed him back the more tender he became, until my heart ached in my chest and I had his shirt gripped in both my hands.

He pulled away first, but still stayed close so that we were nose to nose. He gently caressed my cheek with his thumb. His arm around my waist tightened, and so too did his grip on my cheek, so that his fingers hooked behind my jaw, and his first finger pressed into a wonderful sensitive spot just below my ear.

“We’re leaving,” he said, and all at once scooped me up and hoisted me off the floor and over his shoulder.

“No, wait!” I cried, the air forced from my lungs as he slung me like a sack of potatoes. This wasn’t what I wanted. Was it? “Put me down!”

“No.”

“Put me down!” I snarled, beating his back.

He gripped my butt hard and spun toward the door.

“Let me go or I’ll scream,” I said. “And every girl in this place will be trying to claw your eyes out.”

His grip tightened and he curled his arm over my body, carrying me toward the door like an unwilling bride.

“You say a fucking word,” he said, “and I’ll have you over my knee for a spanking so fierce you’ll wish you kept your mouth shut.”