Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Sebastian barrels inside, jabs the button to close the doors, and after we lurch upward, he stalls my getaway car altogether by pressing the stop button. We halt between floors, and it takes all of my willpower not to pound on the stubborn panels that leave me trapped with him.
“Let me out of here!” I try reaching for the button that will send the gears turning again, but he blocks me.
“Stop screaming,” he says, hands shackling my wrists. “We’re not leaving until we talk.”
I meet the accusation in his gaze with a good dose of my own. “What were you doing with her?”
“Not what you were doing with the chancellor.”
“He said you don’t deserve me. Is he right, Sebastian?”
“You’re acting like a possessive lunatic,” he says.
“I’m possessive? You made a scene and humiliated me!”
He grabs me by the nape. “I made you mine.” His eyes spark a deep sapphire, and my breath hitches when he lowers them to my trembling lips. “And now everyone at that wedding knows it. He knows it.”
“I’m glad everyone knows it,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my words. “Everyone but me.”
“I didn’t touch her, Novalee.”
“If it was so innocent, why did you leave the reception?”
“She needed to talk to me in private. I gave her five minutes, then went looking for you. Instead, I found you in his arms.” Without warning, he shoves me against the wall, my cheek pressing into the cool panel as he grips me by the hair. “You know what won’t stop raging through my fucking head? The image of him touching you.” The admission echoes in the tight space, repeating in my mind until disquiet descends.
Then his breathing quickens.
So does mine, and before I can stop it, a whimper escapes. I’m trapped between the wall and his hard body. Mostly, I’m ensnared by my need for him, an unbearable throb that’s only worsened from denial and lunacy.
Because he’s right. I am a lunatic—crazy for wanting him while he’s holding me hostage in an elevator. Even crazier for loving him, despite the obvious mistrust between us.
“Sebastian, please.”
He slides his hand down my spine and cups my ass. “You sure you want it? I’m angry as fuck. Gentle isn’t an option.”
“Wanting you has never been a problem,” I bite out.
He shoves me to the floor, lifting my dress over my ass, and impatient hands yank my panties down my hips. Abandoning the stretchy lace, leaving them snug at my thighs, he wrenches my arms behind me. As he straddles my body, his fist a tight shackle around my wrists, a tendril of fear sprouts.
There’s rough…and then there’s rough.
I turn my face, cheek sticky against the floor from tears I didn’t realize I’d shed, and draw in a deep breath. “You don’t have to be gentle, but don’t hurt me.” I mean that in more ways than one.
“I’ll try not to.” His tone offers a hint of concession, the knot of anger loosening. “If it becomes too much, tell me to stop.”
And risk going months without being with him? What if he holds me at arm’s length for our final days together? What if this is it? He claimed to have said goodbye to Lilith the night of the ball. Is this his way of saying goodbye to me?
Clothes rustle, a zipper sounds, and then he’s spearing his cock through my wetness. I shudder from the friction, a continuous litany of moans wrenched from my lips. He rubs me to an explosive climax, tension spiraling through me before it rips me apart. Crying out his name, I curl my fingers, nails gouging my palms.
His grip tightens on my wrists. “Brace yourself, princess.” That’s the only warning I get as he sheaths his slick cock inside my ass. I don’t know whether to howl from pain, or groan from…something else entirely. Each pummeling thrust claims and punishes, bringing him so deep he becomes part of me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my head held to the floor by his dominating hand, helpless to do anything but take what he’s unleashing on my body.
“This ass is mine.” His breathing is erratic, his hands as punishing as his cock. “Mine, Novalee. It’ll never be his. You will never be his.” He wrenches me up by the shoulders, and his hand circles my throat as he pumps from behind, never breaking his viscous pace.
“Tell me you love me.” The fervent demand hits my neck, hot lips following, teeth nipping.
“I love you.” There’s no hesitation, no doubt. No going back.
A tremble shakes through his limbs, catapulting him to the verge. He lowers his hand from my throat and presses a palm over my heart. “Tell me I’m the only one in here.” It’s more plea than demand, a glimpse into the vulnerable soul of a man who thirsts to be first choice.