Rule's Obsession (The House of Rule 1)

Angie felt like the spoils in a game that he was about to win. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she stared at her hand held captive in his. His fingers were long, the ends blunt and callused. They clamped around her hand as if his ownership was a given. Angie sensed that he was ready to spring into action and tighten his grip if she so much as dared to breathe wrong.

She tried to conquer the involuntary reactions of her body that might give him even more power over her. She needed no handicap right now, and with dedicated effort, pasted a serene look on her features as she attempted to keep her pulse from spinning out of control. To say she found him disturbing was a gross understatement; his gaze was sharp and assessing, yet his eyes were filled with a remoteness that refused to show the savage, inner fire she absolutely knew was beating through his bloodstream.

He wanted her. That was indisputable.

There was more than an invitation in the heated depth of his eyes, there was a primitive possession, a merciless, inflexible determination that should have sent her running. But it didn't. She sat rooted to her chair, enticed by his pagan force, beguiled by his posture of authority that demanded her acquiescence.

It was powerful shit.

Her heart pulsed an erratic beat as all through dinner, he watched her with his hawk-like eyes and his intensity never let up.

They spoke of inconsequential things, and far too soon for her comfort, they'd eaten and he'd paid the bill. He hustled her out to a night gone dark, and before long they were driving down the interstate in a direction that had nothing to do with him taking her home and everything to do with his intentions toward her.

She knew where they were going.

His hand held hers over the console, his fingers playing with hers and this thumb pressing against her pulse point, making her blood pump more swiftly.

Few words were spoken between them, but Angie knew where this was headed. She wanted it; there was no denying that. How could she not?

He was handsome, rich, and compelling, and she was only human, after all. She experienced a gamut of emotions, all perplexing, but all leading to one thing. She wanted to go to bed with him.

And nothing would change that.

He drove to the west side of the city, where property was at a premium, and although the outcome would be the same, she realized that they weren't driving to his condominium. Before long, he was pulling into a driveway protected by a tall, wrought iron fence. He pressed a single button on the dash, and the gate began to open.

As he navigated the long drive, Angie finally found her voice. "Where are we?"

"My house."

A sudden tension filled her when she saw the size of the structure before her. "I thought you lived in a condo."

He glanced over as he pulled the car around back. "I have a condo for convenience." His eyes gleamed like black volcanic rock. "I live here."

He pulled into one of four bays, and as he escorted her from the garage, the automatic lights lit up the array of other vehicles parked there. Angie made out a top of the line Range Rover, a disreputable truck that looked as if it had seen better days, and a sports car, shiny and low-slung but she had no idea what it was.

The house itself was nothing less than a mansion. Bigger even than his mother's home had been, Angie had never been in a house of this size or spectrum before, and she was more intimidated than she cared to admit.

As he led her inside and she saw the scope of the rooms themselves and the way the entire house was furnished, she realized that he was far, far richer than she had imagined. She should have gotten a clue when she found out he owned the business tower. She swallowed hard as her steps stalled while she looked around. The rooms were picture perfect, putting a modern spin on the traditional. Angie had no idea what she was actually seeing, she'd never been exposed to a world like this before, but she recognized instantly that the walls were filled with art, not just decoration. Across the rooms, there were elegantly pared down pieces of furniture with subtle detailing, interspersed with outrageous Victoria pieces, and yet, they coexisted harmoniously.

As she hovered in frozen amazement, Damian walked back the few steps to where she stood and with a declaration of intent, swiped her wrist and began dragging her up the ornate, sweeping staircase.

A shiver of response took her breath away, and she stumbled once before quickly regaining her footing. Her stomach tied in knots from both the reality of his wealth and the heat blossoming between her thighs; she could barely get her brain to function.