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“I don’t know what your problem is,” she snapped. “He was bluffing.”
“Roth doesn’t bluff,” he snarled.
“Of course he bluffs,” she hissed. “If he wanted to kill me, he would have gone ahead and sliced my throat rather than waiting. He was fishing and he caught a prize fish with your and Raymond’s reaction. Now the entire criminal element is going to know that both John Vincent and Warbucks place value on my life.”
That could be a hazard. They had enemies. Warbucks’s identity wasn’t known, but neither were his perceived weaknesses. Until now.
“Your logic completely pisses me off.” He paused long enough to unlock their bedroom door before pulling her through it and slamming it behind them.
“My logic is perfectly sound.” She rounded on him furiously as he released her, anger surging through her veins at his pure, high-handed, male-superior arrogance. “And what the hell makes you think you can drag me around like this?”
“This.”
He moved faster than she could evade him. Between one breath and the next, she was in his arms, her head pulled back by the simple expediency of his fingers tangling in her hair.
His lips covered hers, his tongue pushing fiercely between her lips as he kissed her with a hunger and heat that shocked her, scorched her to the tips of her toes.
If there had been any doubt in her mind that John hadn’t placed some emotional claim on her, then it was gone in that second. Pure male possession marked his kiss. As his tongue pumped between her lips, stroked along hers, and his hands jerked her closer, she knew in that moment, that with his hunger, his need, he was branding her. Her senses, her flesh, her very femininity were being marked by this man’s kiss, by his touch.
“Damn you.” He jerked back long enough to grip the hem of her sweater and push her arms up.
It came over her head before she could even consider fighting him for possession of it. Tossed to the floor, forgotten, his lips moved down her neck, nipped at the flesh and sent her senses reeling with pleasure.
Anger and lust, need and hunger burned through her now, burned between them. She could feel the desperation in his touch, in the stroke of his lips and his harsh breaths.
Danger was a spike of adrenaline, but only emotion could spike a lust and a hunger that raged this hot, this intense. Perhaps, she thought, only love could spike the white-hot desperation that began to whip around them.
Only love.
John felt Bailey’s breath hitch, heard the excited little whimper that left her lips, and had to fight to keep from jerking their jeans down, turning her, and taking her immediately.
Something savage, something burning and primal had torn through him the second he had seen that blade at Bailey’s throat. The second he had realized he could lose her.
For a second, one heart-stopping second, he’d seen a glimpse of what she must have felt when he had “died.” Pure, unadulterated fear had surged through him. For the first time in his life, he had known what true fear felt like. What it tasted and smelled like.
It was wrapped around his senses now and nothing could pull him free of it but this. Her kiss and her touch. Marking her body as his. Branding her senses with his touch, with a pleasure they could only find with each other.
He released her long enough to allow her to tear the shirt from his shoulders. Picking her up in his arms, he moved to the bed, tossed her to it, and moved his hands to the snap of her jeans.
She hadn’t worn a bra. The smooth, unblemished mounds of her breasts were topped with tight, delicate pink nipples that stood tight and hard. They tempted his lips, his tongue to taste them.
Pulling her jeans down her long, exquisite legs, he stopped long enough to jerk her boots from her feet before removing the denim quickly.
Silk covered the wet folds of her pussy. Damp silk, proof that she was as aroused as he was, as ready for his possession as he was to possess her.
The panties tore free of her easily.
Watching her face as he ripped the fragile silk from her, he saw the widening of her eyes, the flare of excitement that flushed her face.
“You turned your back on him,” he snarled suddenly as he tore at the belt cinching his hips. “You knew not to turn your back on him.”
“So punish me.” She stretched her arms over her head and arched, thrusting her breasts out to him. “I was a very bad girl, John.”
Damn her. Damn her for being the only woman in the world who could make him crazy, make him insane to have her.
“He could have killed you.” He rid himself of his boots and jeans, his hand gripping the base of his cock as he fought to hold back the need to thrust inside her.
Her gaze fell to where he held himself, her tongue swiping over her li
