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A mock laugh breaks free from his lips. “Your father, the billionaire asshole who could have hired any private detective or henchman to make me sell, sends his teenage daughter.”
“I—I volunteered, I owed him that much.” My voice is barely a whisper.
With two big strides Rafe boxes me in. “He sent you here because he knew your virgin pussy could be the incentive to make me sell. Were you planning to sue me and say I raped you? Face it, kid, he made you a fuckingwhore.”
Without thinking, I slap him hard across the face. “Fuck you.”
He makes a choking sound and hangs his head, smirking before he grabs my chin roughly and pushes himself between my spread legs. I gasp when he presses his erection against my core, letting go of my jaw. My pussy is already throbbing for him. He inhales deeply, looking from my eyes down to the place where the t-shirt dips between my legs.
“I think we both know you liked getting fucked hard by me, didn’t you?” he asks, his mouth an inch away from mine. He reaches between our bodies, roughly cupping my pussy.
I flex my thighs, and a guttural moan escapes from my lips as he slips one finger inside. “I’m sorry, Rafe,” I whisper as he applies more pressure, rubbing his palm between my wet folds, the intrusion almost painful even with me being this wet.
He mutters a frustrated string of curse words, his cheek slowly turning pink from my slap. Pulling his hand back, he grips my waist and yanks me against his body. Rafe doesn’t say anything as his eyes roam over my face and drop to my lips.
“Don’t ever talk to me like that again,” I say, my voice trembling, already panting while I straighten my spine. I know what he’s doing; he is trying to scare me away.
“Are you afraid?” he rasps, gently biting my bottom lip.
“No,” I grit out, wanting him to kiss me. Instead, he pulls back and stares me down. His hand starts kneading my ass, then my thigh while the other runs over my breast, his palm tickling my hard nipple.
He doesn’t smile when he says, “What were you planning to do after I fucked you? Call daddy and what?” His hot breath ghosts over my lips.
“Nothing,” I yell in his face. “I don’t—I don’t know.”
Was this what my father had planned all along, to sue him? Saying he raped me and forcing Rafe into selling. Would he use me for his own benefit like that?
“I would never do that,” I whisper as his gaze burns into mine.
His hand slides into my hair, drawing out a moan. “My palm print on your throat isn’t the only place where I can leave a mark,” he threatens, raking a hand down his face.
“I’m sorry. I should have come clean from the start,” I tell him, tears stinging my eyes.
“Yeah, you fucking should have, kid,” he says, sighing. I can taste him on my lips. Tightening his grip on my hair, he presses the chocolate-colored strands against his nose and inhales deep. “Tell me what you want?” he asks, repeating the question from last night.
“I want you,” I confess, licking my lips while I stare at his growing bulge.
“You sure about that?” He takes my face in his palms and smashes his lips to mine. Pushing in his tongue, our lips lock in a rough and passionate war. One hand moves down between us, over my breast before he twists my nipple, and I mewl, arching my back seductively.
“You know bad girls get punished, little one.” His voice is low and deadly, while he digs his fingers into my waist, a devilish smile lighting up his face. Roughly running his palm over my breast, he twists my nipple again, and I cry out in pain.
“Don’t fuck with me,” he rumbles, his dark voice making me shiver.
I say his name with a breathless gasp and drop my forehead against his bare chest. “I’m sorry for lying,” I say, looking up into his eyes, panting hard.
He keeps staring at me. A muscle slides up and down his throat, his mouth forming a thin line. “I’m sorry too, but don’t fucking do it again, kid.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Fuck me?” he laughs.
Fall for you,I want to say, instead I keep my lips locked like my heart.
“We’re both free agents.”
I have trouble breathing. I haven’t told him I’m engaged. Will Trent let me go? Will my father do the same? Do I even care anymore what they think? My eyes travel down Rafe’s defined chest, stopping at the chain he wears around his neck. I need to change the subject or else I’m going to say;I’m falling for youand then he’ll definitely ask me to leave. “Are the nightmares about your time in the army?” I ask, focusing on the dog tags.
“Yeah, they are,” he narrows those blue eyes staring at my neck and cocks his head. “I guess we both know how to change a subject.” He runs a finger over my throat. “Damn, you look good with my handprint there.”
