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I try to go to him, but he lifts his hand. “It’s all right.”
Heat rushes up my neck and into my cheeks, and suddenly, I’m looking for a way out. “Is there somewhere I can freshen up?”
He points behind him. “The bathroom is in there.”
Giving him a hesitant smile, I go into the bathroom and close the door as calmly as possible. Then I rush to the sink and practically douse my face with cold water.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Have I lost all sense of sanity? How can I be so turned on by the man out there, want him so badly that I bit him?
And all from a kiss.
I lift my fingertips to my lips as I stare at myself in the mirror. How is it possible that a criminal, a thief, a man who stands for everything I’m against can set me aflame like this? It’s like he’s a torch and I’m a bomb, and all he has to do is touch me and I explode.
I’m not sure who I’m more disgusted by at the moment. Him or me.
After drying my face, I take a long breath and release it slowly. Then I stand as straight as possible in an effort to strengthen my willpower. To erect some fucking walls that will keep me safe from him.
But it’s all for nothing when I step out and find him standing in front of the fireplace with his crisp white shirt now unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The light of the flame glows golden on his skin, accentuating the lines and valleys of his muscular chest, his corded forearms, and his chiseled abs.
He looks like a fucking Viking god. Savage, even in dress clothes.
Or maybe he’s a demon. Yeah, that sounds more fitting. A beautiful and terrifyingly sexy demon. And in this moment, I understand why his kiss has had such a devastating effect on me. No matter who he is or how I feel about him on a personal level, I’m catastrophically attracted to him. I always have been.
This sudden realization has me reeling, and I take a step backward.
But before I can run away like a terrified mouse, he’s in front of me. He doesn’t give me time to speak. To change my mind or even think.
His mouth is on mine, and instantly, our kiss is as hot and uncontrolled as it was before I bit him.
The iron tang of blood lingers on his lower lip, and I run my tongue over it. He groans and deepens the kiss.
When he begins to walk us toward the bed, I don’t protest, because I can’t. Never mind the fact that he believes I’m his wife. I have no control. There is only him and his hands, and I’m putty in them.
The mattress hits the back of my legs, and we fall onto it. His weight is on me, his hips pressing deliciously into mine as he works to spread my knees with his.
All the while, the kiss continues, keeping me dazed and mindless, so that when he drags his fingers over my collarbone and then forces my arms above my head, I let him. I cry out when he leaves my lips to trail his warm tongue down my throat. Then he looks to where his fingers pluck at the top of my bodice, and I heave my chest upward, wanting him to touch me everywhere.
But he doesn’t.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers. “You have no idea how hard it is not to fuck you right now.”
Then he directs his darkened gaze to mine. Something in his eyes snaps me from my lust-filled high and sends a shiver of dread through me.
He gets off me and stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at me with hate and anger. That’s when I notice it. He’s no longer touching me, yet my arms are still secured above my head.
“What the fuck?” I tug on the cuffs he managed to get on both my wrists while I was too hazed to notice and then wrapped around one of the bedposts. I pull as hard as I can, but all I accomplish is to tear at my skin. “Get me out of this!”
“No.”
“Ugh! Luca Sinacore, you fucking bastard. This isn’t funny. Let me go.” I pull and buck, but it’s pointless.
He laughs, though there’s no amusement in it. “You had me fooled for a bit, but your true nature betrays you.”
I stop moving. His words make my stomach clench as if I just swallowed lead. “What?”
“I warned you not to interfere.” His tone is cold and callous and completely terrifying. “Where the fuck is your sister?”
“My sister?” I blink rapidly, my brain firing off all kinds of alarms. “At home. She didn’t want to come to the wedding.”
