When she turned, he could see slight dimples in the small of her back and along her sides. Her belly was just rounded enough to swell over the tops of her fitted jeans. He could just about imagine how it would feel to grip her there, fingers divoting into flesh as he made her ride him, leaving behind faint bruises for her to wear for him beneath her clothes.
She had moaned when he’d bitten her throat. Was the rest of her as sensitive? Were her breasts? If he got her clit under his teeth and worked her over with his tongue, would she come from the roughness alone or would she require further coaxing?
Just how loudly would the shy and wistful little poet scream for him when he speared her on his cock and fucked that pretty cunt raw?
She turned from the window as she clasped her bra, oblivious to his hungry gaze. Her hair slid over her bare shoulder with the movement, baring the side of her throat. The mark he’d left stood out in harsh relief against the creamy whiteness of her skin.
He was so hard that it hurt.
He wanted her. Now.
She sighed as she slid her arms into her shirtsleeves, staring at something in the room he couldn’t see. He thought it might be the unicorn tapestry, though it didn’t appear to charm her.
Her eyes drifted, her face still troubled, and their eyes locked. She gasped sharply.
There was something about quiet women. They often went unnoticed, but theynoticedeverything. They were observant. Insightful. Their silences contained multitudes.
As her eyes widened, a jolt passed through his body, propelling him to step forward and push open the door. If he’d wanted, he could have closed the distance between them in two strides, but the tension in her core muscles and the fluttering pulse in her throat made him want to toy with her longer. Stalk her. Slowly. So slowly. He always had enjoyed prolonging the taking. It made the pleasure so much sweeter. Especially when the pleasure in question was a beautiful woman who wanted to run from him.
Nadine stepped backwards, yanking her unbuttoned shirt closed with a trembling hand. “W-what are you doing in here?” she demanded shrilly. “Get out.”
“I came to see if you wanted to go on that tour of the house you’ve been angling after.” Cal let his eyes dip to her bare feet, before leisurely climbing back to her face. “But then I stopped to admire some much more striking scenery.”
He sidled forward and she jumped back like the floor was electrified. “Close the door!”
Grinning now, Cal did—with himself on this side of it. The resultant look on her face as she realized she was trapped with him was like a spark igniting a fuse. That simmering desire in him flared hotter and brighter, pouring through his body in a dizzying rush.
She saw the change in his eyes. Her fingers were white where they were clenching the fabric of her blouse. “N-no! Cal.”She handles herself very roughly, he thought. “Get out or I’ll—”
“What, scream?” He lunged, fingers locked around her slender wrist before she could escape. When he hauled her up against him, her body fit against his like every inch of her had been crafted for his personal use. He could feel her heart pounding furiously through the thin layers of their clothes. “I don’t think you want to do that.” Cal ran a finger down her cheek, her slackened jaw, before hooking it roughly into her necklace. “Not with me in here with you.”
The thump of the necklace hitting her breastbone echoed her slight recoil as she froze. Cal loosened his grip, cupping her throat and thumbing the mark he’d left before angling a path along the hollow of her throat and down to her ribs.
He was far from a tender lover but made himself hold back, just as he’d done when they had danced at her sister’s wedding and he had gentled his touch for the illusion of gentility while yielding absolutely none of the control.
“Of course, that’s speculation,” he murmured, lifting his finger from her warm skin. Her blouse had fallen open again and the sheer lace was doing very little to conceal her body’s response to him. “Do you want to test it?”
Her eyes leapt to his, wild and desperate.
They were standing close enough to kiss. Her lips were ruddy and chapped. It looked like she bit them. He wanted to. Bite her. Kiss her. Steal her breath.
Make her his.
Nadine twisted away with a cry, forgetting that he was still holding onto her wrist. With a grimace, she tugged again, testing his grip. His fingers tightened involuntarily, and now there was fear in her eyes. “Let me go.Please.”
(Please)
Cal opened his hand. Nadine skittered away, covering herself with both arms. “Get out,” she said again, but the words lacked their fire from before and he sat down on the edge of her unmade bed instead, giving her an unrepentant grin.
The Egyptian cotton sheets were textured with embroidery. Cal smoothed his palm over the comforter as he studied the unicorn room, ignoring the outraged object of his attentions. There were traces of her everywhere in the daylight, things that he’d missed in his haste the night before: a book placed face-down beside the bed, a handful of cosmetics scattered over the vanity. His eyes lingered on the sweater she had covered the painting with, now on the floor, and smiled.
Bold of her, to think that she could hide over one hundred years of history behind a sweater. It was like trying to tame a wolf with a sweet, pleading look.
Or trying to satisfy one’s hunger with a kiss.
“This is where they put all the Cullraven brides,” Cal mused, as if to no one in particular. “When they came here, most of them were virgins.”
Nadine went ramrod stiff. “I’m not a bride.”
