Coerced Wife (New York Underworld #2) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: New York Underworld Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
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I’m not going to lie. I don’t have a reason to hide the truth from her. “Yes.”

She nods.

“Anya.” I put my hands on her shoulders and turn her to face me. “It meant nothing. Besides, that was before you.”

She utters a laugh, but it comes out wrong. “Does that mean we’re exclusive now?”

I tighten my fingers on her soft flesh. “We’ve been exclusive from the moment I put my dick inside you.” No, from the moment I laid eyes on her. My tone is full of ugly jealousy, claws of possessiveness threatening to dig a green monster from my chest. “If that wasn’t clear, let there be no misunderstanding about it.” I narrow my eyes, staring into the melted honey pools of hers. My voice is even, cold and calculated. “Touch another man, and he’s dead.”

She backtracks a step, her head jerking as she does a double take.

I grip her chin, forcing her to hold my gaze so that she can see the murderous rage and serious intent on my face. “If any man touches what’s mine, I’ll cut off his hands and throw them like treats at a pack of wild dogs. Then I’ll hang him feet down from a tree and lower the rope slowly until those beasts have eaten every morsel of meat clean off his bones.”

Her throat ripples as she swallows.

I let her chin go to cup her cheek, the gesture tender even as my smile is cruel. “Is that clear?”

She nods, her pretty eyes wide with fright, and fuck me if her fear doesn’t turn me on. Like a predator, it makes me want to hunt her down and chase her just so I can catch her and make her submit. The victory always feeds the part of me that needs to own her, but the conquest tastes sweet for both of us.

Kevin pulls up. The guards follow in two cars.

I set her free before I’m tempted to push her flat onto the backseat, pull up the partition, and fuck her six ways from Sunday like my beast demands I do. That monster doesn’t like to be provoked. He’s not human enough to hide behind practiced civility. It’s dangerous to poke him. It’s a mistake to unleash the chain that keeps him at bay.

I open the back door and help her inside before locking the laptop in the trunk. When I get in on the other side, she scoots to the door, thinking she can escape me. I anchor her next to me with a hand on her knee, keeping her where I want her, which is close. Always close. My thigh presses against hers when I get comfortable and spread my legs. Warmth bleeds from her body into mine. If I could, I’d mix our blood and pump the cocktail through both our veins so that we share the same life force. That’s how fiercely I need to own her. Anya doesn’t seem to feel the same. She tries to pull away without making it obvious by turning her legs sideways.

“Home, Mr. De Luca?” Kevin asks, catching my gaze in the rearview mirror.

Fuck it. I can’t be bothered to cook. I’m too on edge, too close to ripping off Anya’s clothes and showing her who she belongs to.

“Rusty’s,” I say, drawing Anya’s leg roughly back to mine and unintentionally spreading her knees in the process.

I smooth my hand over her leg, brushing up the hem of her dress, and rest my palm high on her thigh, my fingers inches away from her crotch. She sits as quietly as a little mouse next to me, wisely not prodding the monster she lured out of its cage with her earlier comment. The mistake she made was suggesting we hadn’t been exclusive from the moment I’d locked my fist around her neck and claimed every breath she was yet to take. Every fucking breath she drags into her lungs is mine. They’re all mine, for the rest of her life.

Kevin exits the underground parking lot and steers the car into the street. Per habit, I scan the surroundings through the windscreen. My attention locks on a white car that pulls away from the curb just as we pass, inserting himself between our vehicle and those of my guards.

In a second flat, my hand is on the gun I keep under the seat.

A soft gasp falls from Anya’s lips. I don’t let go of her leg. I keep the gun in one hand and the other on her thigh, squeezing her soft flesh to reassure her while my attention remains on the action outside.

My guards act fast. The driver of the first car overtakes and cuts off the interloper but not before I’ve gotten a good visual of the car.

The license plate confirms what I already know.

Detective Jordan.

Jordan swerves, inviting some honking. The maneuver forces him to line up behind my guards. He’s not trying to be discreet. No, he wants me to see him. He’s sending a message, letting me know he’s watching me. As if his psychological games will have any effect on me. I almost laugh out loud at that.



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