The Ravishing

“You make it sound like I’m the one in the wrong,” I responded with a calm voice, trying desperately not to show any fear.

“You have no idea how wrong you are. How every second you breathe is a goddamn privilege.”

“You think you scare me? People have tried to intimidate me. And failed. No one can.”

He stepped back. “Until you met me.”

“Did he cut you out of a business deal? Is that it?”

He gave a smile, but it warped out of shape in disbelief. His eyes closed for a beat before he muttered, “You have no idea who your father is?”

“He can be stern. But he’s fair.”

“Your father is not the man you think he is.”

Dread settled in my stomach.

His eyes blazed with hate. “Your father showed me what kind of man he is when I watched him kill innocent people.”

“He would never do something like that,” I said bitterly.

Stephen could be stern and sometimes volatile. Yes, he did use his fists, but kill? I refused to believe it.

“A man is known by his actions.” I retorted.

“Back to the chair.”

“It slipped from my grip.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“I watched you throw it.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” I smirked.

Cassius towered over me. “Don’t question me. You won’t like the consequences.”

Our bodies were so close that I swore he could feel my heart beating in my chest. A shudder ran through me as another plan came to mind.

Before I could think twice, I reached up and cupped his face with my palm. Then I used the rest of my false bravado to lean in until I was almost kissing him.

Daring him to press his mouth against mine. This was where my power lay.

This was what I could use against him.

Lure him in, then convince him to let me go.

I bit my lip, detesting this man with every cell of my body, but there was something else present, weaving its way through me at the close proximity of our bodies.

Something I didn’t want to think about or admit. Shuddering against this rising need to make contact with him, to feel his touch like this, to have his body pressed to mine. I needed to fight this visceral reaction I was having to him.

His formidable eyes and sensual mouth claimed my focus. I raised my chin, pride shuddering through me at my will to survive this. To survive him. Because I could see in that glint in his eyes, I’d captured his attention. His focus never strayed from mine.

“You and I, we’re not so different,” I said huskily.

“And how is that?”

“We want the same thing.”

“Anya,” he said, his tone imperceptible.

He felt it too, this heat surging between us, this strange chemistry of captor and captive fighting for authority.

All I had to do was seduce him.

Endure the pain of being taken. Manipulate this man into seeing me differently. I was innocent, and if I could get him to see this, to believe that I had nothing to do with any of it, I might live through this.

Trying to steady the tremble of my hand, I lowered it to his groin and cupped him there, feeling him swelling in my palm. Keeping the shock of it out of my eyes as his length grew against my touch.

His nose brushed my temple. “You like it rough?”

“Yes?” I breathed.

Doubt crept in, and suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I could follow through.

“Is that so?” His voice was heady with want and desire, making my body tremble.

Oh, God.

There was a slickness between my thighs, an arousal I couldn’t fathom. My fingers curled around his impressive girth. “You want me. I can tell.”

He grabbed my wrist to stop my hand. “Really, Anya?” Leaning in, he nestled into my nape, his breath warm on my throat, his commanding presence dominated every second that followed. It was easy to be drawn into his darkness, into the way he was able to control this moment. “Do you really think seducing me will work?”

I pulled away.

He gave an amused smirk, mocking me.

“I was aiming for you with the chair!” I snapped.

“Now that’s a start. We can always do with more honesty around here.”

“You know what we could do with more of? Decency.” I pushed away from him.

“Try to remember where you had your hand ten seconds ago.”

“I’m trying to remember what it is to not be here in this terrible place.”

“We’re done talking.” He took hold of my forearm and pulled me across the room.

His touch felt electric against my skin. Like a live wire sending shocking voltage into my flesh. The kind you cling to because you can’t help yourself.

I followed him out of the bedroom and down the sweeping staircase. My arousal shrank like a wilting flower. Those whispers of want and need faded with each step I took beside this evil man.