The Bad Guy

I swallowed hard and took a step back. He followed, looming over me with those strange, intense eyes that seemed to miss no detail.

“When did you start building this?” I feared his answer, though I already knew it. Something like this would take time and forethought.

“I called my designer for a builder recommendation the night of the gala.”

I flattened my palm on the table to my right. “You planned all this starting that night?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. “I knew it was you. I saw you.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “And you saw me too.”

Pulling my hand away, I shook my head. “We had one dance. One dance.”

“That was all I needed.”

My ire rose as I tore my gaze from him to stare at the rows of flowers. “It wasn’t all I needed.”

“In time—”

“Time?” I stepped back. “Time to accept that I’m a prisoner and what, fall in love with you?”

“Love?” He followed me again, refusing to give me any distance. “I don’t know what that means.” His eyes darted to my lips, and a hungry glint flashed in his eyes. “I just know you’re mine.”

Something sparked in my chest, an echo of his madness finding a match inside me and striking it. I glanced to his mouth and, for just a moment, pondered how well he’d kissed me in the library. How amazing his hands had felt on me. Disgust roared to life in my heart, though I didn’t know if it was for him or me.

I took a deep breath and pushed my disturbing reaction down, burying it deep and hoping it wouldn’t sprout and grow when I turned my back. “I’m not yours.”

“You are. You always have been.”

“Stop saying that!” I swiped my hand along the table in an arc, sending pots and plants cascaded to the floor where they shattered among the rounded stones.

“You’re mine.” He advanced and grabbed my upper arms, his palms sending a jolt through my system. Bending down to me, he hovered at my mouth. “I’ll say it as many times as I need to.”

I shuddered, but not with revulsion. What was he doing to me?

He smirked. “It’s okay if you don’t want to admit it, but you want this. Us. You know it’s true.” Pushing me back, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me close, his hard body bending my soft one to his will.

I clawed his arms. “Get off me.”

“No.” He still hovered right above my mouth.

I leaned up and bit his bottom lip hard, but when I drew blood, he moaned and crushed his mouth to mine. Copper teased along my tongue as he kissed me with a rough intensity I’d never experienced. My nails dug harder into his arms, but I was trapped in his embrace.

His tongue pushed between my lips, slid along my teeth and pressed entry deeper inside. Opening my mouth to protest was a mistake, because he pushed his tongue against mine. A groan rumbled from his chest as he devoured me, every stroke of his tongue like a delicious poison from an exotic bloom. My eyes fluttered closed. This kiss was even more insistent than the first, like a tidal wave bowling me over despite my attempts to stand tall.

He ground his hips against mine, his erection hard and thick between us. Our tongues warred as his grip tightened on my hair, and he bent me back even farther, leaving me completely at his mercy. It was so wrong, but I couldn’t deny the heady buzz that shot through my body like electricity through a power grid. He lit me up—his mouth, his hands, his taste.

But I was his prisoner. What are you doing? I stiffened and fought to turn away from him.

He kept me facing him, but backed up far enough to peer into my eyes. “Where’d you go?”

I tried to shove him off. “I went crazy right along with you for a minute there, but I’m back now, so get off me.”

Frustration furrowed a crease between his eyes, but he leaned back and released me. “You were there. We both were.”

“No.” I brushed the dirt off my ass and stared at the mess I’d made.

He let out a frustrated sigh and cocked his head. “When you make that face, I can’t tell what the appropriate response is.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What?”

“Most of the time, you’re so expressive.” He reached out to touch my face, but I backed up a step, the dirt squishing between my toes. He frowned even more. “But when you’re like this, I can’t tell what’s going on in your head or what my reaction should be.”

“What are you talking about? Is that what your robot brain tells you to do?”

“No, not as simple as that. It’s just that people like me—”

I let out a harsh laugh. “I’m pretty certain there is no one like you.”