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“Tonight was supposed to be about us. I planned to announce to the whole family our secret and face the consequences. Instead you walked in with my fucking cousin, the son of the man who had an affair with my mother, and you let him touch you.” My tone drops a few octaves as my hand wraps around her neck while goose bumps break on her skin and the breath hitches in her throat, her heartbeat speeding up. “He acted like he had a right to touch you when he doesn’t. You’re mine.” Somehow I held back all the possessiveness and jealousy that my cousin inspired, but the emotions come to the surface once again in a powerful wave that washes away sanity and leaves only madness that has one wish. To own her and remind her that only one man has a right to call her his.
And that’s fucking me.
“Am I yours?” She lifts her chin, a stubborn expression crossing her face despite her body pressing tighter against mine and a gasp slipping past her lips when my hard-on digs into her stomach, a red flush covering her cheeks.
“Whose do you think you are, Jimena?”
She places her hands on my chest, gliding them up my scars, and I hiss when her nails cut into my skin. “Myself. Maybe it’s a hard concept to grasp, darling, but I belong to myself.”
I barely manage to hold back my laughter, considering she sought me out in the middle of the night and jumped right into my arms because that’s where she belongs. My woman has a hard time grasping the concept, though. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
Oh, she shouldn’t have said that.
Jimena
I regret my words the minute they slip past my lips because instantly, the energy around me changes, growing tense with anticipation and a hunting presence that sends shivers down my spine and creates unfamiliar sensations in the pit of my stomach.
Florian’s emerald eyes darken and for the first time I feel like prey who caught the attention of its predator.
And what a stupid thing it was to say—belong to myself, please.
A grin shapes his mouth and I blink in surprise when his hand glides up my throat toward my hair and he threads his fingers through my dark locks. He yanks on it a little and I arch, exposing my flesh to his wandering gaze, and he places his lips to my pulse point, tracing his tongue over it. “For a woman who belongs to herself, your heart is beating awfully fast,” he murmurs, skimming his lips to my shoulder and sucking at the skin there hard, leaving a hickey that will be impossible to cover up.
My raspy voice gives away the desire spreading in my veins, shooting arrows strait to my core that dampens at the contact and another gasp leaves me when he tightens his arm, hiking me higher, and his hard-on brushes over me, just hinting at what he’s capable of giving me. And a hint is enough to tempt me. “I’m just nervous. I’m locked in a house with a man who thinks he has rights over me.”
I really need to shut up, but provoking him brings me pleasure. Maybe because I’ve been going insane from lust these past few months, remembering our passionate encounters and heated kisses Florian stole whenever he caught me alone.
I stayed strong, though, and never let him seduce me but the ban I’ve put on our relationship is unbearable.
I wake up in the middle of the night all sweaty and needy for him and it doesn’t help that the pregnancy only added to my libido, reaching epic proportions and demanding for my man to come and fix the desire clawing at me from the inside out.
He chuckles, peppering me with small kisses all over my collarbone and neck before shifting lower and biting on the mounds of my breasts, and I moan as yearning zips through me, the little touches causing fireworks to erupt within me. “Ah, sensitive, aren’t they? I’ve read an interesting book lately. Your body needs me, princess. Are you done denying us both?”
“Florian, this is a mistake.” Even though my entire being cries out to him, I’m engaged to another man. “We should stop.” I shouldn’t have come here, I can’t resist him on most days let alone when we are left alone without anyone breathing down our backs.
My engagement to Maxwell is fake and I owe him no loyalties, but who knows if this psycho is spying on me or not. I don’t want him to take offense in something and put the dark four in danger.
“Because you’re engaged?” he asks calmly, too calmly, but I have no time to focus on that as he moves his mouth upward until we share a breath and our lips brush against each other’s as longing rushes through me, my stomach dipping at the lust shining in his eyes that promises me lots of things.
Mercy and listening to me, though?
Are not one of them.
“Yes. I’m engaged to someone else.” Even saying these horrible words feels wrong, as if I’m betraying him, and I hate Maxwell.
I should never wear anyone’s ring but Florian’s.
“Jimena?”
“Yes?”
“Your fake engagement means fucking nothing to me.” That’s all the warning I get before he slams his mouth on mine, trapping us both in a deep, sensual kiss designed to drive me insane and remind me that there might be countless men out there…but none of them will ever measure up to my man.
His tongue explores inside my mouth, marking his territory and staking his claim all over it as if asserting it anew so no one else would ever dare to touch me or think they have a chance with me. A kiss that’s punishing in its nature and serves as a warning to everyone else, but the experienced and confident strokes create a cocoon around me, pulling me in a world where only our passion exists and all the voices in my head go quiet.
All sans the one screaming at me to get as close as possible to my man so he can finally take care of me and all these wicked desires he’s awakened.
