Her face turned ten shades of livid. “There’s more to life than sex.”
“Not for a man. Your roommates are pussies.”
“And tying unwilling women to your bed makes you a man?” She dug her feet into the mattress and scooted back against the wall, tucking her knees to her chest. “You said you weren’t interested. Then you learned I’m a virgin and changed your mind? Is that your thing? You prefer your victims unsoiled, so you can be the one to plunder and defile them before you cut out their throats?”
He was many things. Many repulsive, unforgivable things, but she was wrong about this. So fucking wrong on all counts. He’d never fucked a virgin in his life, not even when he lost his virginity at sixteen. He didn’t understand the appeal.
Even now, imagining hurting her in that way, taking something so intimate and precious brought him no satisfaction.
Worse was the thought of Arturo or any other cabrón touching her.
This inconvenient possessiveness wasn’t new. He’d successfully ignored it since the night he met her. Didn’t matter that he wanted her with every vile, undeserving bone in his body. He never intended to fuck her.
Until he heard her whispered plea.
It’s all I have left.
He would die before he’d let Arturo take that from her.
Of all the women who tempted him over the last twelve years—the parade of virgins, prostitutes, and every level of experience in between—he couldn’t fathom why this mouthy, petulant, argumentative vixen was the one who had pierced through the tough, shriveled crust of his dead insides.
Of all the goddamn women, why was she the one he wanted for himself?
He had but one explanation, which wasn’t an explanation at all. “You’re mine.”
“Oh, for the love of caveman clichés.” Her mouth twisted into a snarl. “Just kill me already.”
Brave words, but she didn’t mean them. Her will to survive blazed in the molten core of her being. Not even he could douse those flames. And he wouldn’t.
While the rational part of him analyzed all the reasons why he couldn’t wrap his life around this woman, the rest of him didn’t fucking care.
This wasn’t him. This wasn’t how he operated.
He flexed his hands, seconds from putting a fist through the wall. He wanted to hear the bones crunch, feel the hot gush of blood between his fingers, and remember the paralyzing pain. He needed to remember his penance.
Tipping his head back, he stared at the rafters, exhaled roughly, and leveled his gaze back on her.
Those destructive blue eyes fired a barrage of animosity and judgment. He could drown in her hatred and rise out of death in the intensity of her passion. Because she wasn’t just malice and vengeance. There were so many facets to her he wanted to carve her open, bleed all her layers, and preserve her strength in a canvas of beautiful scars.
Fuck his penance.
He was doing this.
He was going to break his own rules.
Resolve kicked his pulse into a gallop. He whipped his belt free and dropped it. His pants followed. Then he knelt on the mattress, wearing only his briefs.
“What are you doing?” She squeezed her thighs together.
“I’m going to hell, and I’m taking you with me.”
No mistaking her terror. It drained the blood from her face and saturated the air with the short, frantic sounds of her breaths.
That added another punishing scar to his miserable existence. The past six weeks hadn’t been easy for her, and every time he breathed in her direction, he hurt her more.
He regretted what he was and the shit he’d done, but the shame wouldn’t stop him. It never did.
A criminal with remorse was still a criminal.
“You’re a rapist.” She flattened her back against the wall.
“I’m not. But that’s about to change.”
With her legs free to kick, she swung them wildly, desperately, at his head.
Putting an end to that, he closed his hands around her ankles and pulled. She fought uselessly as he hauled her down the mattress on her back toward his kneeling position. When the rope on her wrists snapped her arms above her, he pinned her knees to her armpits and spread her thighs open.
Everything stopped—his heart, breath, all sound and motion. The room faded until all that existed was the view beneath him.
He stared at her, at her slit, at the dark narrow breach within. His face was just a kiss away as he gazed earnestly, devoutly, memorizing and cherishing her gorgeous design.
The flesh around her tiny holes was so pink and taut he couldn’t stop himself from running his nose deep inside the cleft, devouring the scent of sweet torture from her pussy to her ass and back again.
His fingers curled around the backs of her thighs, and all the heat in his body descended south. Fucking hell, he’d never been this hard, this reckless. His mouth watered to taste, eat, and consume.