Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“What the hell?” I snap, turning to face him, but he’s already moving, stepping into my space, swallowing the distance between us.
“You’re on edge. Scared,” he says simply, his tone infuriatingly calm and controlled. “I don’t like it. And I want to remind you who you belong to before we take another step anywhere.”
“You don’t like it?” My voice rises, my fists clenching by my sides. “Of all the nerve! Well, excuse me if meeting your family of actual criminals in person has me a little wound up.”
Leaning in, his hand curls at the back of my neck. I stifle a moan at the instant flood of heat that rushes through me, grounding me in an instant.
How does he do that?
“They’re not going to touch you, little queen.” His thumb brushes the sensitive skin at the base of my skull, and damn him—it works. I stop trembling.
Was I the one who moved closer, or was it him?
I’m against the wall of his chest, and a very small part of me still wants to push away, but the mirrored wall is behind me, leaving me nowhere to go. “This isn’t fair,” I whisper. “You can’t just…trap me to calm me down.”
“Says who? Why not?” His voice is velvet-wrapped steel, the dangerous purr of a predator, but I want… more. “And who says my plan is to trap you to calm you down? Maybe I have other plans.”
I open my mouth to argue when he lifts me up, his hands under my ass as he perches me on the elevator railing. The sudden intimacy of it all makes my skin prickle with heat and my breath catch. “Rodion…”
This time when my voice trembles, it isn’t from fear.
Leaning in so close, I can feel his breath against my jaw and smell the raw, masculine, heady scent of his cologne, he whispers, “Go ahead, little queen. Tell me to stop.”
How does he read my mind like that?
Of course I can’t. I don’t want to.
His lips graze my neck, his teeth scraping just enough to send sparks shooting through me. “You’ve got two choices, Ember. First, you can fight me—because I know you want to, even though I’ll win. Or second, you let me show how I deal with nerves.”
Uhhhhhm.
Let me…show you…
But I’m not the girl who rolls over and splays her belly. Nuh-uh. I want to be overpowered. I want to push back.
I want him to handle me.
My hands are already against his chest, pushing, testing, even though he’s as immovable as the damn wall on the rooftop where we first met.
“Ahh,” he says with a smirk and that familiar greedy gleam in his eyes. “You want a fight.”
When his hands tighten against my hips, pulling me flush against him, the pressure is maddening. The hot, sturdy feel of him between my legs sends my need into overdrive.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he says in a gravelly whisper.
“You started it,” I bite back, lifting my chin in defiance.
His mouth at my ear, he nips at my earlobe. “And I’m going to finish it,” he promises as he slides me off the railing. “Turn around and put your hands on the railing. If you move them, you’ll force me to remind you what happens to naughty little queens who disobey their kings.”
Gah.
What is he going to do?
I’m hyperaware of the sounds he makes as he deftly unzips the bag with my camera. What is he—oh god.
His movements are unhurried, measured, and maddening. He knows I’m watching, already on edge, trapped between floors, conscious of every subtle shift of his body, every quiet click of the camera’s clasp.
With deliberate precision, he unfastens the leather strap around the camera and folds the ends in his palm so it makes a supple loop.
Is he—
“Jeans off, Ember,” he commands, his voice like gravel.
I don’t move. I can’t.
He steps closer, his height and breadth overwhelming me. His knuckles brush my hip as he grips the waistband of my jeans, unbuttoning them with a single, deft motion. The sound of the zipper lowering echoes in the small space.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
I’m trembling as I push them down my thighs. Cool air licks at my bare skin, and I hear him hitch in a breath as I step out of them. My pulse is deafening in my ears.
The leather strap brushes over the curve of my thigh as he drags it slowly upward, teasing. A shiver runs through me.
“You think it’s cute to challenge me?” His words are a low growl in my ear, sending a jolt straight through me.
“I—”
“Why don’t we see if this will help.”
Then, without warning, his palm presses on the small of my back. The strap cracks against my ass, and I cry out, my voice breaking between pain and a rush of molten heat. He snaps it across my ass again. I come up on my toes and gasp, even as the sting melds to warm, sultry arousal.