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He chuckles—half crazy and half angry. I should fear that noise.
“Page nine,” he whispers against the shell of my ear.
I gulp, knowing he’s referencing my naughty journal. But I’m not going to fuck him. And he doesn’t want to fuck me either—he just wants to torture me, bring me to the edge of release before slaughtering me.
He already knows the truth. He’s figured it out, finally. He knows what kind of snake I am. This isn’t about pulling information out of me—this is about revenge.
“No,” I whisper back so softly I’m not sure he heard me.
His hand tightens around my neck as he walks me back until I’m pressed against a brick wall.
I can’t see him in the blackness, and he can’t see me. But I’ve never felt like our hearts were in the open, bleeding for each other more than I do now. We’re both suffering alone in this dark basement.
“Why?” he breathes.
“Why not?” I purr back, taunting him.
“You think this is all a game? You risked Ri’s life. And you killed…”
“I killed her unborn baby. Don’t worry, she can get pregnant again. But it seems selfish of her to have tried to have a baby while she’s still in this dangerous crime family.”
His growl shuts me up, but my words have the intended effect on him. He shoves me harder against the brick wall. “Are you trying to get me to snap your neck?”
“You’re going to anyway. I’m just trying to get this over with so I don’t have to spend hours being tortured.”
His hand loosens on my neck instead of tightening. I pushed too far.
His other hand runs down my body—over every bony curve until his hand rests on the swell of my stomach. And I know what he’s not saying—he won’t hurt me as long as I’m pregnant. He won’t take an innocent life.
“Really? I would think you’d want me to miscarry. You don’t have a chance at claiming me or my father’s throne while I’m pregnant with another man’s baby.”
He chuckles. “First, I don’t believe a word you’re saying right now. I have no idea whose baby is inside you. And second, even if the baby isn’t mine, I always find a way to get what I want.”
“So do I.”
“What do you want, wifey? What is your endgame?”
I tilt my head up. “I thought you’d figured that out. Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”
“Well, I’m about to figure it out.” His hand tightens quickly, cutting off my breath.
I don’t struggle. I remain as still as a statue. I’m not afraid of him any more than he is of me. But my head begins to spin and I begin to see spots. I’m on the edge of passing out when he releases me.
I gasp, sucking in gulps of air and bending over in pain.
“Hmmm, I don’t think you’re ready for page nine. How about page three?” he says.
Page three? Shit, I don’t remember what I wrote. But I do know my heart won’t survive it if he fulfills any of my fantasies.
Suddenly, he lifts my shoulders and slams me back against the wall, one of his hands forcing my wrists above my head. His other hand palms my stomach, rubbing carefully over where my bump will be, before slipping between the waistband of my pants.
I can’t conceal my shock as his fingers push between my folds, aggressively claiming my body. It’s the worst kind of torture, because he owns my body. He knows every inch of it. He knows how to pleasure me and make me scream his name. I’d walk to my own death to feel this pleasure again and again, and he knows it.
No matter which man I choose, Lennox will be the only man who can do this to my body. He’s the only one that can touch me and instantly make me his—to control, to claim.
I moan as his fingers rub over my sensitive clit, and I writhe against the wall. I am trying to think about what I fucking wrote on page three to prepare myself, but my mind is so flooded with endorphins and blissfully enjoying his touch. It’s impossible to think clearly.
His lips press against my jaw, pushing my brain further away from thoughts and toward that place only he can take me.
