Sparrow

“Four, five…years,” I answered, my lips twitching, but I thought about how it’d feel to have him, even five years from now. “What can I say, Mother Nature can be a bitch.”

“And she’s not the only one.” He flattened his hand on my stomach, and I let his heat seep through the fabric of my cotton shirt.

His master bedroom was magnificent, with marble flooring, a huge black-leather headboard, gray and white satin throws, rich beige rugs and custom lighting. It looked like something out of a catalogue. Breathtakingly impersonal and too sterile to feel at home in.

Just like its owner. But just like its owner, it was unbelievably striking.

It was different.

It was insane.

It was…something I didn’t hate, even though I desperately wanted to.

“Something tells me that if Mother Nature was in charge right now, you’d be riding me like a jockey.” He sat up and hauled me back toward his body, his breath caressing my skin.

I let out a soft moan and fought the urge to lean into him.

His lips traveled oh-so-briefly over my wrist, his words sharp as a razor but his voice surprisingly sweet. “Why don’t you show me this spine of yours, Sparrow? Why don’t you take a look at what you did?” he urged, looking down at his underwear.

My pulse hitched, my eyes slowly traveling down to his groin. A faint trail of pink blood stained his white boxers, watered down by my wetness against his bulge.

I hated him for showing this to me. I hated myself for doing this to him.

“I’m nowhere near ready to have sex with you, Brennan. Not now. Probably not ever.” But even as I said the words, I knew they were a lie. Hell, he probably knew that, too.

At the same time, I hated him so much it burned through my skin, made my bones ache with rage.

“Sparrow Brennan…” He tasted the name on his tongue, clucking it in approval. “One day I’m going to fuck your brains out, until you won’t be able to walk the next day.”

One day, my brain processed. But not tonight, asshole.

“You know that. And I know that,” he continued, “so if you want to lie to yourself, by all means, be my fucking guest. But we both know you’re already mine. Mind…” He reached up and stroked my temple softly.

A shiver ran down my spine.

“Body...” His hand traveled down to my chest, groping my right breast suddenly and circling my erect nipple with his thumb.

I dropped my head back, letting him touch me.

“Soul…” He continued down to my stomach, underneath my shirt, his fingers brushing every inch of my flesh.

Oh, hell.

“Heart…” His hand glided back up to my left breast where he paused for a second, snorting a sarcastic laugh. “Well, the heart you can keep yourself.”

Then, without a warning, he flipped us both in one fast movement. He was now on top, with me writhing underneath him, stomach to stomach. His weight pressed on my pelvis, and before I could muster the courage and brain cells to give him another mouthful, he ground his bulge against me, nothing separating us other than the stupid fabric of his underwear.

Heat swelled inside me. I sucked in a breath, biting my lip furiously to suppress a moan.

“Should I stop?” he asked, his arms boxing me in as he continued grinding.

“Y-yes,” my weak voice stuttered. I did want him to stop…didn’t I?

He paused, but his smile grew bigger and more shark-like. He dipped his head, his mouth finding mine as he rolled off of me. He spoke into my mouth, his lips hovering over mine, but not kissing me. “Someday, I’m going to get us kicked out of this place, when you scream my name so loud in this bedroom that everyone can hear.”

I frowned at him. “I doubt anyone would kick you out of the building, considering your reputation.”

Troy threw his head back and laughed a wholehearted, joyful laugh. He loved my last statement. Loved being feared.

“That much is true.” His hand moved to my throat, his finger tracing an invisible line. “You know, Sparrow? Maybe we could play together after all. There’s some fun hiding underneath your layers of goodness.”

I had a feeling there was nothing fun hiding underneath his layers of darkness, but I didn’t say a thing.

SPARROW

Five Days Later

ONE DAY SWALLOWED the next one, time sticking together like pages in a new, unopened book. And me? I was running out of options to entertain myself between the thick, suffocating walls of Troy Brennan’s penthouse.

When he’d imprisoned me for ten days before our wedding, he only visited his tastefully furnished, clinical-looking apartment once, and that was to tell me I was going to be his wife. Back then, I’d wondered if he wanted to scare me or give me time to come to terms with the new arrangement. Now, I knew for certain that his absence had nothing to do with me and everything to do with his job.