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He shrugged. “Maybe. Or, more likely, they’re here to kill me.”
My breath got stuck in my throat.
There to kill him? Why?
Wasn’t he powerful? At dinner, before he captured me, I got the feeling he was the most feared guy in the room.
Revered. Side-eyed. Respected.
“Will you stay in here until I’m back? Or do I need to tie you up again?”
A smile played around his mouth as if he liked the thought of tying me up.
“I’ll stay.”
“Great, park your ass on that sofa, and do not move.”
I nodded, shuffled to the sofa, and plonked down.
He watched me with narrowed eyes, then bridged the distance and leaned over me. “If you move a muscle while I’m gone, you’re gonna pay for it.”
My stomach tightened, and pressure developed in my chest.
Pressure I knew all too well.
Pressure that had caused me more trouble and punishments during my teenage years than I cared to remember.
I glared at him. “Stop threatening me.”
He leaned closer. “Or what?”
His masculine scent hit my nostrils, and my core quickened. I suddenly felt turned on instead of angry. “Or you’ll regret it.” It was barely more than a whispered challenge, my voice hoarse with need.
What the hell was going on? Why was my body betraying me like this?
“Oh, sweetheart.” He cupped my cheek, skimmed his thumb over my bottom lip.
Again and again.
His gaze locked with mine.
I opened my lips; my breath came out in short bursts.
I wanted him to kiss me.
Needed him to devour me.
He leaned forward, and I let my eyes fall closed.
Yes, please, yes.
I waited to feel his lips touch mine. Instead, his breath hit my ear, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps. Then his lips touched my earlobe. “I already regret it.”
Then he leaned in and bit my neck.
Marking me as his.
Electricity zinged through me—making every single nerve in my body tingle.
