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It’s about an animal need to claim what is mine. To make what belongs to me. She was given tome. I didn’t ask for this, but she’s mine, and mine alone. I’ll be damned if I let any other man on earth lay hands on what is mine.
I thunder down the hallway towards her wing of the house. I don’t knock, I simply open the door to her quarters and slam it open. I hear her gasp through the closed door to her bedroom. But that door doesn’t stop me either.
I slam it open violently. Katrina whirls, gasping. She quickly closes the silk robe tight around herself. But it doesn’t matter. It could be a suit of armor, or bullet-proof Kevlar ensconcing her. And it still wouldn’t stop me.
“Micheal…”
Her face turns pink. Her eyes are wide and full of something. Fear, perhaps. But it’s mixed with something as wild as what I feel inside. She trembles as I growl lowly. I storm across the room, and she gasps. She backs into the vanity beside her bed. I don’t slow or stop until I press right against her.
I pin her to the vanity, a growl rumbling in my throat. My hand grips her waist tightly. She whimpers. My other hand slides up an arm. I’m barely containing myself. I’m barely able to stop myself from shredding this robe from her smooth body and fucking her senseless right here. Fucking her until all she knows is my thick cock and my hot cum marking her as mine.
My hand tightens on her hip. My other hand grips her jaw.
“I—”
“Mine,” I groan. “You aremine.” My mouth descends to hers, and I kiss her savagely. I kiss her hard enough to bruise. Katrina moans into my lips, and it’s my undoing.
God help me.
I kiss her harder. I grip her tighter, probably bruising her skin. I can feel her nipples harden to little beads beneath her robe. They’re hard against my chest, but the rest of her is so soft and supple. My hand slides into her hair. I grab it in a fist. God help me, she moans when I do.
I want to spread her legs wide. I want to pull my cock free of my slacks and bury it between her thighs. I want to fuck her like a man claims what is his. I want to watch her when she comes screaming my name.
My hands clench tight on her. It’s possessive. It’s a claim. But then, reason hits me. I pause. The red mist lifts just enough from my eyes for me to see clearly for a moment.
What the fuck am I doing? She might be gasping. Her body might be arching into me. But I can’t just take her like this. Not when she’s so young. Not when she’s being forced to be here. I groan quietly. My eyes squeeze shut, and I pull my lip from hers. I grind my teeth and take a breath.
I want her. I want to consume her. But I’m not a monster. I’m not that kind of monster, at least. If I have her—when I have her—it won’t be with me holding all the power like this. When I take Katrina, she’ll be begging me to do so.
Painfully, regretfully, I pull away from her. I take a step back, and my hands leave her. I’m shaking. My muscles are clenched all over. My jaw is so tight I can barely speak words. Katrina looks at me with big blue eyes, trembling. Her lower lip quivers. Her cheeks are flushed and pink.
“We’re getting married tomorrow,” I growl.
Her eyes widen. But she says nothing. She just nods, looking like she’s in shock.
“That’s all.”
I let my eyes drag over her once more. I almost crack. I almost go back to her with no intention of stopping myself this time. But the man in me quells the monster. I take a breath. I back away from her. Then I turn, and I storm away.
8
Katrina
My body trembles.I can feel my pulse racing beneath my warm, tingly skin. Goosebumps tease over me, making me shiver. A dull ache throbs in my core.
The door slams shut, and he’s gone from my rooms. But he’s still very much in my head. I can still feel his body against mine. I can feel the ghosts of his hands on me. And I can still taste his lips on mine. I can feel his tongue dancing with mine.
I stand there in shock against the vanity in the bathroom. The water from the shower I haven’t taken yet is still running. Steam fills the room. My legs squeeze together, and I gasp softly.
I’m twenty-three years old, and I just had my very first kiss. I reach up and touch my lips with my fingertips. They feel tingly and swollen from his mouth. But I’m instantly desperate for more. I tremble and remember the rush of it. The passion. The dominant and possessive way he just kissed me like I belonged to him.
I do, I suppose. The idea still terrifies me. Knowing that I belong to or that I’m owned by a man as dangerous and as powerful and Micheal Genovese is surreal. It’s scary and numbing. Or maybe I just think it should be. Because after that kiss, I’m not so sure I believe any of that.
I don’t feel scared. I feel a rush. I’m not terrified. I’m desperately aching for more of him. For more of that kiss. For more of his hands on me. For more of… everything.
Heat throbs in my core. My thighs clench, and I gasp quietly. I lean back against the counter. My hands slide up my sides. My fingers tease my skin through the silk robe. They move over my tummy until they reach the silk knot holding it shut. I pluck it undone. The robe slips open, and I moan softly.
I close my eyes. I shrug, and the robe slips from my shoulders to the tile floor. My hands slide over my skin. My tummy hollows under my touch. My nipples stiffen when my fingers find them. I moan and drop my head back.
