The Obsession (Filthy Rich Americans 2)
His expression was cryptic. “How do I know that’s true? You’re not wearing the ring anymore. For all I know, he’s turned you against me, and now you’re his spy.”
“He didn’t turn me against you, and I didn’t tell him.”
“Why not?”
I gave him the same answer he’d given me about why he hadn’t slept with anyone last year. “I don’t know.”
“I think I do,” he said. His face was as gorgeous and perfect as one of the statues in the hedge maze. “Maybe you’re in love with me.”
SEVENTEEN
ROYCE’S LUDICROUS STATEMENT punched an empty laugh from my chest. “I’m not.”
His eyes went loud with a challenge. “Then why didn’t you tell him?”
I ignored him. My gaze swung longingly to the shower as I crossed my arms over my stomach and held in what little warmth I had.
But Royce wasn’t going to let it go. He stepped between me and the water that rained from the ceiling and gurgled quietly down the drain, blocking my view so he was all I could see. Nothing but high cheekbones and full lips and eyes that stared relentlessly.
“Why’d you go through with the initiation?” His voice was steady and calm, but there was power buried in his words. “Why’d you play his game and save my board seat after I’d sold you to him? I mean, if you wanted to fuck my life over, that was your opportunity—but you didn’t. Tell me why.”
Everything was unraveling. “I don’t know!”
“Sure you do.” His cocky expression was seriously hot but also infuriating. Heat sparked inside me, and I latched on to it. He tilted his head and gave an impish smile. “You’re not the first girl to fall in love with me.”
“I’m not in love with you,” I hissed.
“We said no lies,” he reminded.
Oh, my God. I was going to murder him. Flames licked at my body, melting the ice.
His hand slipped inside his pocket and produced the ring. “You’re not the first girl to fall in love with me, Marist. But you’re going to be the last.”
My heart skipped and tumbled, wanting to believe, but my brain knew better. It flew into protection mode, refusing to accept what he’d said. “Now who’s lying?”
“Not me.” His conviction was absolute. “Put this ring on, back where it belongs.”
“This isn’t real,” I cried. “You’re just saying what you think I want to hear. Anything to keep me in check so your dad’s satisfied and everything goes according to your plan. This isn’t what you want.”
Heat flared in his eyes, two torches burning as he closed the ring up in a tight fist and began to toe off his shoes. “You want to know what I fucking want? I’ll show you.”
The ring was jammed back in his pocket, freeing up his hands so he could use them. One banded around my back and the other grabbed my ass, and a startled noise squeaked from me as I was lifted into his embrace. His face was furious. Resolute. He carried me into the shower, his feet splashing into the water pooled around the drain.
Hot water sluiced over our bodies. It drenched us and the clothes we wore in a matter of seconds, but not before I’d gasped in shock. Royce didn’t waver. Like he’d done in the rainstorm, as the water poured over him, he didn’t appear to notice. He’d ambushed me, and once I’d been captured, there was no escape.
Not that I wanted to.
He dropped me on my feet beneath the showerhead, and I only got a flash of his hungry look as I brushed a sopping lock of hair back out of my face. It was because his hands curled around the undone neckline of my shirt, and then he pulled the sides apart so hard, it sent buttons tinging and skittering across the tiled walls. Water slung everywhere.
It was . . . violent.
Primal and fucking erotic.
A muscle deep between my legs tightened and pulsed at his breathtaking action.
With the shirt out of his way, he hooked his fingers into the cup of my bra and jerked it down, setting my breast free. I bit my lip and threaded my hands in his soaked hair as his greedy mouth latched on to my nipple.
“Fuck,” I groaned. The throaty word bounced and echoed in the shower.
He was rough and wild, like a man pushed beyond his breaking point. Careless hands pawed at me, yanking the ruined shirt off my shoulders and down my arms until it fell into a sodden heap.
The other cup of my bra was jerked down so my breasts were pushed out over the tops, and he gave a sexy grunt as he bit the newly exposed flesh.
I wasn’t cold anymore. It was scorching in the shower. I arched my back, jutting my breasts into his face so he could better tease me. His tongue slid over my slick, glistening skin, flicking angrily back and forth over my distended nipple, punishing me with each lash.