“What game?” I shiver at the contact.
He chuckles darkly. “The sort of game where you try to ignore me.” Fingers glide under the material, tracing the waistline of ill-fitting trousers. My stomach jerks at the intrusion. “Let’s see if you’re truly capable of staying quiet.”
“Get your fucking hands off me,” I hiss.
His one gloved hand swathes my throat, lengthening the bones so I’m staring directly into his eyes. I squeeze the lids shut, doing my utmost to block out the sensation of weight pressing against my breasts while his fingers pop open useless buttons holding the slacks to my hip bones. His breathing picks up pace, puffing in blasts over my cheek as he angles the wounded side out of his way. Dipping to my ear, he hums out a savage growl. I could dare to think he’s battling with desire, but the cruel noise is actually the king claiming his authority. Nothing more.
“Can you ignore this?” He caresses the contours of my quivering stomach, traveling between us to find my nipples.
I’ve nowhere to hide as his gaze drills into mine. I swallow in a gulp, begging my body to show repulsion, to become immune to his wicked torment. I can’t prevent waves of gooseflesh or the mounting swell between my thighs, and the bastard knows it. I’m only human. My senses answer to stimulation, but it doesn’t mean I’ll enjoy it.
“While you’re trying so very hard to ignore me, tell me one thing.” Tracing my waist, fingers skim to breach the loose material draping open at my belly. His spine stiffens. Unforgiving inky pupils liquify when he finds I’m not wearing panties. They weren’t part of the welcome package. In a man’s world, they fail to consider feminine basics. Underwear. Tampons. Razors. Simple necessities.
“Why did you fly to Rio last year with a Mr. Campbell?”
My spine locks. Keith.
“It was my honeymoon.”
His head yanks back like the announcement tugged the taut thread to his gravity. “You’re married?”
“No. I backed out,” I declare under a shaky breath. “We never made it to Rio.” The words spill out like a confession.
I can’t lie and pretend I’m married, to wish for a shred of clemency, a reprieve to this unfair charade. If he knows about Keith, then he already knows I’m not with him anymore. To be dishonest now would be the worst decision of all.
His bare hand doesn’t still for long, reaching behind me to grab my ass, rough and hard. I twist, straining my neck to turn, angling my hips to break away.
Keith asked me to marry him. He knew who I was. He understood the long hours and sheer dedication required to excel in my career. Or so I thought, until he accused me of working too much, ignoring him, and neglecting his needs. A month before our wedding, I walked away from a future I wasn’t sure I wanted in the first place. Regardless of his insecurities, he was kind and generous, not barbaric and intoxicating.
He pulls back an inch. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? Perhaps that man is my enemy too.”
“Keith? He’s never heard of you. How could he be your enemy?” This man is delusional. Keith never left the highlands, let alone conspire with strangers. The only danger he welcomed was trudging through a stream without wearing waders.
“Is there even a Keith Campbell? Or is he a decoy? I’m guessing you flew to Rio to meet a contact, and you’re lying to me.”
I suck in sharply, and as I prepare to scream, leather slams over my mouth. The effort to wrangle my jaws goes unrewarded when all I can do is nip his glove.
“Not quite so confident in your ability to ignore me now.” He chuckles, muting my squeal from the world.
Firm movements knead my fleshy buttocks, sliding roaming fingers into the crack so his handful encompasses more. The guttural noise deep in his chest reverberates from his body to mine. It tingles through me, both spurring my struggle and spiking my own inconvenient sunless craving.
“Let’s find out if you can tell the truth. A simple yes or no.” He ruts his thigh into my pelvis, forcing my legs apart, almost lifting my feet from the deck. “Are you wet?”
I am. Desperately and unintentionally wet. The pressure over my mouth decreases to permit my answer. “Not for you,” I spit out.
There’s no hiding the slick heat forming between my thighs, and no matter how hard I try to clamp them shut, he manages to invade.
“Then who? Your ex?” he hisses with a bitter rasp. Our gazes draw swords. Mine furious, his oddly possessive.
I shake my head, breathing wildly when he finds me perfectly lubricated. “You like this little game, don’t you?” He laughs deep within his chest, riddled with vanity. This time he bites his bottom lip and inhales in tandem with his one-handed search. Neither of us misses the perversion. He drags his mouth to my earlobe, making me shudder. “Your mind might lie, but your body, that’s a whole other creature entirely.”
My heart frosts under the smug tone of his voice. “Leave me alone.” I slam fists into unyielding strength, powerless to move out from under his weight.
A finger slips into my entrance, rendering me speechless. The throaty groan that flees past my lips betrays my soul. He’s manipulating my body against my understanding of sex and sin, wedding the two with a ring of peridot flaring in his eyes.
Tears glaze my vision. The warmth of his pillage blossoms within me, hijacking all the reasons this scenario is depraved. Poor Keith was underwhelming in comparison. Our nights together failed to stir a synergy even remotely similar to the uprise of scandalous arousal taking over me.
Indignation rolls with my eyes. The grunt that escapes me is part bubbling rage, part seething madness. I moan without reserve when a finger pushes higher. Unwanted sensations tingle from my scalp to the rise of my buttocks. A damnable tongue skates over the shell of my ear, making me quake.
“Don’t do this to me,” I beg.
I tense up my internal muscles, refuting the wicked sensation his angled wrist creates. The impulse to hook my leg around him is a fleeting back draft. I suck in the degrading atmosphere and let the idea devastate my soul. It’s a lie. A fever.
His workforce spills out of the cabana, filtering from the entrance only a few meters away. Their voices hum around the open expanse, unaware of our secret encounter.
“Don’t make a sound. Earn my trust.” His command snaps at my ear.
“I don’t want your trust,” I growl. “If this is what it brings me. You’re disgusting. A wild animal wouldn’t be so underhanded.”
Boots clatter. Conversations continue in the distance, ignorant to my imminent sexual spiral. Warm lips brush along the curve of my jaw while fingers continue to slip inside me. It’s not brutal or painful punishment, more hungry, like he’s savoring a gourmet meal after years of basic rations.
Hot breath, sharp citrus, and manly coiled energy all combine in an overwhelming rush of endorphins. It’s a debauchery riddled with pleasure.
I wince when he circles engorged flesh. “No. No!” My head shakes, fighting the thrill building in my core. He releases my jaw and grabs the twisted hair at my nape, fixing my gaze to his. Feathery hairs prickle over my chin. Sultry breaths separate our mouths. It’s intimate and intense. A prisoner held hostage to a need for satisfaction. The divine devil is claiming his property.