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“You’re fucking sick,” I rasp. Fear laces my insides. I drag my fingernails down the top of his hand, trying like hell to slice through his skin since he has me pinned to the wall with no hope of grabbing the gun my brother left for me.
Just in case.
Who would have ever thought that I’d need to use it against the father of my child?
He forces my legs open. Something hard juts into my stomach. My knees buckle. I can feel every ripple of his muscles through the flimsy fabric of my robe. He thrusts hard against me.
Heat pools between my thighs as the flashbacks of that night wallpaper my mind.
No, no, no! How is this happening?
“We haven’t even gotten started yet.” I ball my free hand into a fist and pound it against him — his chest, his face, his gut.
None of it stops him.
But he doesn’t stab me, either. He just smiles, looking every bit the evil villain he wants me to believe he is.
I gasp and flounder, my airway tight as a duck’s ass. He sticks the knife in his back pocket for some reason I can’t process on such limited oxygen. But it’s my chance to break free. I drop my eyes to the hand around my neck, deciding it’s close enough to my mouth. I clamp down on the fingers snaked around my neck. The tang of metal hits my tongue.
Blood.Hisblood.
Unfazed, his lips curl and he squeezes harder. My body buckles, black spots dancing in front of my eyes.
No, I can’t let him get away with this. I have to be strong…for myself and for Daniela.
But my body succumbs. My eyelids float closed. I melt against him, my limbs wilting like overcooked noodles. And suddenly the rough timbre of his voice hums into my ear.
“Not so fast, sweetheart. I’m not letting you go that easily.”
He releases my neck. I crumple to the floor, clutching my throat. I sputter and cough, slapping my hands against the cool tile. Using every bit of energy I have left, I drag myself across the floor and away from him.
For a brief second, I am delusional enough to think I can actually escape the clutches of this lunatic.
But just as I reach for the gun on my night stand, a sharp laugh punctures the air.
“I like that you wanna make things interesting.” He bites the air with his harsh words.
My fingers barely graze the textured handle when he fists my hair and yanks me up off the floor. The force of impact of my back against his muscular chest sends a rush of breath from my lungs.
My God, is he made of freaking steel?
He flings an arm over my chest to hold me in place. Fierce tingles prickle my goosebump-pebbled skin when he slides his hand over my abdomen toward my breasts. He forces his hips against me, the swell of his cock against my ass making my knees wobble like Jell-O. Even through my robe, the pads of his fingertips scorch my prickled flesh. He captures my left nipple, drawing the peak between his fingers.
A moan slips from my lips despite the fact that the guy currently taunting and teasing my body also broke in here to murder me.
It seems like he’s momentarily forgotten about that, too, since he can’t tear his hands away from me. A knot forms in my gut, pulling tighter with every thrust of his hips against my ass.
“Too bad I have to kill you. This could’ve been fun.”
“I would rather die than have you touch me, you bastard. Why are you here?” I gasp, my mind looted with conflict. The irony that once again, I’m the prey for this twisted deviant who knocked me up, would be laughable if I wasn’t fighting for my life. “What do you want?”
“Justice, death,” he growls against the shell of my ear. “And revenge.”
He flips me around, his eyes hungrily raking over my scantily clad body. His head dips low, his breath hot against my neck. The tip of his nose slides behind my ear and he buries it in my hair, breathing me in. He slides one hand down the front of my robe, tugging it open to expose my heaving breasts.
“You’re going to die tonight.” He tugs the back of my hair so I’m forced to look up at him. His eyes are dark with lust and glimmering with pent-up need. I latch onto a flicker of curiosity in the depths but in a hair of a second, it’s gone…replaced once again by malice.
I cry out, my eyes wide. “You can’t—"
