He wore all black, and the way he looked at me from across the room made me fully aware of his reputation. He was the most dangerous man in the city, and soon I would have to call him Husband.
He watched me as he leaned against the small bar, and the longer he did it my heart pumped faster, pushing nerves through my veins.
The thoughts I would have processed over a matter of time all rushed in at once. I wondered how many women he had been with, what he expected of me. I wasn’t a virgin, but I wasn’t far from one. I’d had sex with one man, and only enough to fill a weekend. I was inexperienced and worried he would chew me up and spit me out.
He pulled on his tie while walking into the kitchen. He set his tumbler on the island, then looked at me. “You gonna stand near that door all day?”
I swallowed and nodded.
With his hands braced on the counter, he gave his head a small shake. My stomach fluttered when he glanced at me, his eyes molten.
“Come here.”
I didn’t think it was possible for any woman to ignore that command from him. I had an awful, awful impulse to listen.
With an erratic heartbeat, I took the short steps toward him.
As soon as I reached him, he grabbed my nape, threaded his fingers into my hair, and then buried his face in my neck. He made a masculine noise of satisfaction that I could feel deep in my stomach, before it settled into a weight between my legs. I rocked back, not fighting him, but shaken with this lightning bolt exploding in my chest and fizzing through my veins.
My breasts pressed against his hard, warm abs and a shiver rolled through me. He ran his face up and down my neck, as though he was savoring my smell, or maybe languishing in the fact that he’d caught his next meal.
“Fuck. You feel good,” he groaned against my throat.
He wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me, setting me close to eye-level on the island. The counter was cold against my thighs as he stepped between them, forcing them further apart.
My heartbeat drummed in my ears, and a cold sensation crept through me. Fear. He pressed his lips to my throat, kissing a slow line down it. Each one sent a sizzle between my legs, and I tilted my head to give him more access, a moan escaping my lips.
This man had changed roles from a tempting someone I couldn’t have, to owner, lover, and fiancé. The whiplash had given me no time to act but on instinct alone. I wanted him, but at the unknown, a cool breath of fear dripped into my subconscious.
I grasped the edge of the counter on both sides of me, trying to ground myself to earth somehow, while he worked my neck with slow kisses and scrapes of his teeth. As his presence consumed my own, my reservations dissolved into smoke.
His large hands ran down my sides, from underneath my breasts to low on my hips, his thumbs brushing bare skin beneath the band of my shorts. It was a maddening sensation, and I was dying for him to go a little further, up or down. To just freaking pick one.
His erection pressed against the inside of my thigh, and if he would only step forward a few inches, it would be right where I wanted it, needed it.
I swayed, my eyes heavy-lidded, when a solid grip came to the side of my neck to hold me still while he pressed hot, wet kisses to my throat. My head fell back on a moan, my hair skimming the countertop with the next nip of his teeth.
His hips lined up with mine, his hands grasping the top of my ass, and then his hard-on pressed against my clit in a slow roll that stole my breath. A quiet growl fanned against my neck, while an emptiness pulsed between my legs.
He only ground against me once, when I needed it over and over, before he pulled back. His hands left me and grasped the counter beside my own. I’d yet to even touch him while stuck in this dream-like state.
His gaze was more black than amber. “Take off your shirt.”
Each bossy, gravelly word was a slow hum in the empty ache between my legs. The cold sense of fear snuck its way back in, cutting through the haze. A part of me needed to comply, to do everything this man asked of me. To give him anything he wanted, but I couldn’t. Not yet.
With a shaky breath, I shook my head.
His gaze narrowed at the edges.
“Promise not to kill the father of Adriana’s baby and I will.”
His expression hardened even more. “I don’t like ultimatums.”
“It’s not an ultimatum. It’s an . . . incentive.”
He shook his head and started to pull away from me, but I grabbed him by the belt loop. “Please . . .” My voice was throaty, sounding different to my ears. It was coated in thick, deep lust, and he paused, his attention all mine. “For a wedding present.”