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With that, he began dragging her down the hallway, and it wasn’t until they’d come to the stairway that his meaning became clear. He meant to do this now—right now. Her heart raced as her blood quickened. She began pulling on her arm as she set her feet firmly in place.
****
Chapter Eight
Max stalled in his tracks and turned around to face Erin, a storm cloud rolling over his features that made her panic continue to explode.
“I’m not going upstairs with you—you promised!”
His mouth flattened as he towered over her. “I didn’t promise anything. I tried something out—it didn’t work. Now we’re moving on.” With that, he began walking up the stairs, pulling her along after him.
“Max, stop!”
He snapped back around, his mouth set in lines of irritation. “What?”
“You can’t just—you can’t just—”
His eyes narrowed, even as he seemed to listen to her plea. But then her world suddenly tipped as a determined look came over his features and he scooped her up, one arm under her knees and the other under her back as he made short work of the staircase.
Pushing through to their suite, he swung her inside and dropped her to her feet as he bolted the door. Her legs feeling like mush, she abruptly decided that being on the offensive was better than running defense.
With that plan in mind, she planted her hands on her waist and came within inches of him, defiance coursing through her bloodstream. “It’s not happening, dude—think again. You promised and you’re going to live up to that promise, or by all that’s holy, you’ll wish you had. Just because I’ve agreed to stay here, do you honestly think that I have to make it easy on you by falling in with your plans? Bullshit. That’s not happening.”
An obvious look of irritation crossed his features as his jaw flexed. His head snapped to the side, indicating the bed, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Get on the damn bed.”
Her stomach flipped as a shameful shower of sparks cascaded around her at his guttural words. What was her plan again? What should her reactions be? She couldn’t think of that now, all she could do was react the way that she honestly felt—with defiance. “No.”
His lips flattened. “Now.”
She lifted her chin, refusing to obey the instincts screaming down her spine that were telling her to take a step back. “No.”
“Erin. Get on the fucking bed—or I’ll put you there myself.”
She glanced once at the bed and then back to him. Attempting to slide past him toward the door while keeping him in her sights, she bit out, “You get on the fucking bed—I’m going back downstairs.”
Her fingers had just reached the doorknob when he lifted her arm and held it against the door, his chest coming up and slamming into her back, pushing her breasts into the solid wood.
He hissed into her ear, “You’re going to learn to do as I say—understand me?”
She reared back against him, trying to get away. “I understand you’re nothing but an asshole.”
“Yeah? I’m your asshole husband,” he said as he continued to push into her back, his hands falling to grip her hips, his leg thrusting between hers. He angled slightly until she could feel the pressure and heat of his seeking, engorged erection lodged forcefully against her center, and any words congealed in her throat as a wave of sexual heat hit her from all sides.
Why the hell couldn’t she retain her sanity around him? What would it take? How could she give in to him and still come out the winner? She had to make a decision about how to respond and she had to make it now—she didn’t have time for further introspection.
She wanted two things—a chance to see if this crazy attraction could really turn into the perfect marriage—and she wanted him to call off his insane idea of revenge.
So, one step at a time. A perfect relationship wouldn’t come without sex. And fortunately for her—she wanted to have sex with him so badly she could taste it.
****
Max was seriously about to lose it. His goddamned cock was so hard it was about to explode—it was riding up between the rounded cheeks of her ass so erotically that he couldn’t contain a single pump of his hips—and then another. He had to be careful. He could come so easily like this, dry humping her.
He felt her reaction when she stiffened and then abruptly went slack, her muscles relaxing as she turned soft and pliable. It confused the fuck out of him. He’d expected her to keep fighting, both verbally and physically—and he’d expected to have to stop, because force wasn’t acceptable to him.
But she didn’t continue fighting. She went limp between him and the door, almost as if she couldn’t fight—or didn’t want to fight with him any longer.
