Rule's Addiction (The House of Rule 3)

Still unable to get her vocal chords to function, all she could do was stand on her own two feet and clutch the towel around her middle while he studied her with penetrating eyes. Roughly, almost violently, he put his hand at the top of the towel and with a smooth, aggressive move, whipped it from her and tossed it away.

Galvanized by his action, she attempted to jerk from his hold, tried to get away and leave, but he sank his fists around her wrists and held her arms down at her sides while he looked her over. His gaze was glued to her breasts, and with a dart of heat, she realized he was looking at the fading bruise on her chest that he was responsible for. “Did it hurt?” he asked in a low, heated voice.

She swallowed, her heart hammering, and forced out an appropriate answer. “No, but you had no right.”

His gaze left her chest and forcefully landed on hers. “You don’t think so?”

“No,” she panted, attempting to wrench away from him again.

His hands clamped down hard, holding her in place and his answer came abruptly. “How fast do you think I’d own the right if I set my mind to it?”

At his words, she grew still as she sucked in a breath, realizing she had little control over her wayward attraction to him. If he gave it his all, as he intimated he might, she’d undoubtedly be doomed before the contest even began.

His fists still holding her wrists, she felt his thumbs begin to caress her skin. “Come on, baby. We both know where this is headed.”

Maria literally felt her eyelids get heavy as her legs began to tremble. Her body might be experiencing a certain physical weakness, but she still retained control of her voice, and she attempted with everything she had to make it strong now. “I’m not going to tell you again. Leave me alone, Garrett.”

A dark cloud descended on his face. “That is not fucking happening.”

Her brain splitting and feeling as if she were losing all control, she attempted to put up a fight. “I’m going to—”

“Yeah, I know,” he interrupted, dragging in a harsh breath. “You want your day in court, got it. Might as well give you some decent ammunition against me.” His gaze slid quickly down her bathing suit to her legs and his muscles seemed to tense where he stood. Holding her wrists hostage, he let out a tormented groan and pushed his torso flush against hers. His erection was full and straining against his pants, pushing into her stomach.

Maria felt a heady delight at the impact, but before too much more could register, he bumped her face up with his chin and took her lips under his. There was nothing gentle about his kiss. It wasn’t rough, or brutal, but it held no gentleness. He simply took her mouth as if he had every right, as if it were his and his alone, as if he’d been doing it for years and years.

With his lips almost smothering hers, his air of self-confidence enveloped her and she realized all at once that that was the one thing that most attracted her to him. He walked into a room and he owned it. He opened his mouth and he owned the attention of everyone around him. His lips fell to hers and he owned her. His body touched hers and he owned her even more so.

Thank God that was something that only she knew. He’d never know, he could never know, not in a million years.

His hands released her and he lifted them to wrap around her face. He tipped her chin, affording himself better access and the kiss deepened. The trembling in her stomach turned into full-blown sexual excitement, and in the recesses of her mind was the thought that if his self-confidence didn’t manifest into such full-blown arrogance, that maybe, just maybe, he’d be the perfect man to have for a lover. Sexy. Dominant. Take-charge.

Certainly her libido was telling her that he was the perfect man as he held her against the wall and continued to kiss her as if it were a given that she’d wind up in his bed. His tongue stroked against hers, learning every inch of her mouth with a dedication and skill that had the oxygen snagging in her lungs. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, his hand running to her chin and holding her in place as he devoured her. Bottle rockets exploding in her head, she vaguely realized that with him, she was in danger of drowning, in danger of losing her independence, because he was the type of man who’d expect more than a mutually satisfying, sexual relationship. He’d expect to own her, to have full control over her . . . to dominate her.