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She needed more. Everywhere. She needed… Ownership. The greedy way he started to touch her next. His fingers curled around the waistband of her pants, grazing the flesh beneath, but fear didn’t even enter her mind. She arched her hips to assist him, eager to get closer. Feel more.
Her eyelids fluttered as the roughness of his palm met the bare skin of her thigh, but the sound he made…
It ripped through her like a current, awakening nerves she never knew existed. Feelings came from nowhere and struck like lightning. She was only vaguely aware of his fingers inching higher along her thigh. Higher…
The first brush of his knuckles against the tender space between her legs made her head rear back against the wall so hard sparks exploded before her eyes. Almost instantly, his free hand was against her scalp, cradling the aching area—not that the pain was any match for the sensation of him.
A harsh voice, dripping into her ear, finally responded to her initial question. “You wanted to know who I am to you?”
Her heart panged—he’d never sounded like this before. This guttural. Primal.
“I am everything you’ll ever need. Everything you could ever want. I am…”
There was a note in his voice some small, buried part of her didn’t ignore.
He waseverything.
Whether she wanted him to be or not.
13
Slow Down.Bill felt like a bystander, screaming helplessly as a tragedy unfolded before his eyes. There was no stopping it. He could only witness the inevitable—and, in this case, he was both watcher and perpetrator.
You fucking monster.The moniker haunted him as he mouthed the pulse in Loren’s throat while his fingers breached a part of her he had no right to take. Guilt didn’t diminish his awe one damn bit. He groaned instead, his heart lurching at the feel of her.
If only he could stop his body’s reaction there. Rebelliously, his cock swelled, straining against the thin cotton of his sweatpants. There was no ignoring the pure, biological response she inspired so innocently. She was molten, her body broadcasting in every way it knew how that she was ready for him. Aching for him.
No.The thought belonged to the one bastion of control he had left—like a drowning man, Bill clung to it.
Drawing back, he sucked in air and tried to refocus. His hand withdrew from her thigh, his teeth clamping down over any impulse to kiss her.
“No—” Her nails lashed at his chest so hard she drew blood.
He saw red. The next second, he had her slung over a bale of hay. She was so much smaller, but her body concealed its strength like a jackknife. One minute she seemed weak and ineffective. And then, as though with the press of a button, she transformed. Grew claws. Lashed out.
Her eyes blazed at him, her chest heaving as she clawed at his forearms, dragging him back.
“You don’t want this.” He tried to reason with her.
Her reply came in between harsh pants. “You don’t know what I want.”
But he did. He could feel her desire in every pore of his being. The tumult of emotions emanating from her felt poisonous in their intensity. Confusion. Desire. Greed. Lust. She wanted him so badly her entire body throbbed with the need.
He could smell it. Taste her arousal in the air. The scent had him crouching, nostrils flaring as he sought out the source. Something hampered him. Her pants—so he ripped them off, baring her legs to him as well as a pair of pink panties.
The thin strip of fabric irritated him. He needed to see her. Every inch. Take stock of her body in full. Like the pale, creamy skin of her inner thighs, marred with scrapes and bruises that drew a growl from his throat. There were other marks. Ones she’d wanted to hide from him. On her lower back. Her wrists. Her stomach.
Years of abuse and neglect scarred her like words on the pages of a book. Inspecting them made his heart ache. She was so strong. So frail.
But, as far as he was concerned, no one would ever hurt her again. Ever. He cemented the promise by nipping at the nape of her neck in an act only the most primal part of her would recognize as both a marking and a warning.
She was his…
But they weren’t alone.
Noises scratched at the periphery of his consciousness. Shrieks. Cries. The horses? And something else. Voices, growing in intensity.
“…going on in there? I don’t know… Going to see…”
