His throaty grunt burrows under my skin, blitzing every cell with a greedy, forbidden longing. I watch his nostrils flare, and his lips part like I’ve caught him off guard. That makes two of us. He’s stolen my existence, and now he’s prizing out my innermost fantasies.
“Omigod, why do I keep saying that?” I whisper, succumbing to the flames rising to my eyes.
“Because it’s the truth.” His voice is softer now, not welcoming but not accusing either. “Close your eyes, beija flor.”
“No.” I gasp, chilled by his unknown intentions.
“Are you scared of me?”
“Yes.” Damn him. I should’ve said no. I have no control over my answers. What should remain as private thoughts are dropping onto his lap like falling coconuts from the highest palm tree.
“You should be.” The hand cradling my jawline guides my body to standing. “Inside.” Held prisoner in a single movement, I tip into him only for support as my legs betray me. “Walk.”
Together we move indoors. Me stepping reluctantly as he ushers me by the neck. Once inside, he lets go and slides the door shut.
I take that wisp of distraction to bolt, darting to the exit with quaking knees. Before I reach the door, hands circle my waist, and I’m dragged backward. He effortlessly pivots me one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees. Our eyes lock in a silent war. “So, you hate me?” His left brow drifts higher.
“Yes.” My hands tremble, although I force myself to meet his haunting stare. “I hate you so much, and if at all possible, I detest you even more, knowing you’ve spiked my drink and stolen my damn privacy.”
El Fantasma glues his narrowed gaze to the rampant goosebumps showering my skin. Hungry eyes eat up the sight of my naked flesh. This man has had the upper hand since I met him, and tonight is no different. Without a protective layer of material, he can observe everything. Every nervous tremor and rush of uncertain prickles. I’m exposed to his every glance and whim.
“And even though you hate me, you wish for my hands to own you?” His tongue skates between his lips, and I swear he shivers.
“Fuck you,” I grit out.
My mind is screaming in agreement, but I’m determined not to reply. Instead, I nip my tongue until a sharp sting reveals a copper trickle that blends with saliva. What I’m feeling is unnatural. I bet he’s poisoned me with ecstasy, inducing a euphoric lie. I’m drawn to him against my will. That’s the only conceivable reason for this curse.
Powerful palms glide to my shoulders. My ass hits the wall. Chills dart down my spine. “How can you hate me, beija flor, when you want to fuck me?” A wicked smirk interrupts my loathing. “You can only speak the truth tonight. So, tell me, what do you want?”
“Freedom,” I blurt out, spraying his cheek with spatters of scarlet.
He wipes the speckles with mottled fingers and runs his tongue over the tips, tasting the fluid containing hidden truths. Clean fingers hollow my cheeks. My heartbeat speeds up when I slam balled fists into his chest. “Get the hell away from me. And stop calling me stupid pet names. They christened me, Iris.”
Thrashing fists are restrained. He wrestles my spine against the wall. Our hips collide, overpowering my body with his firm physique. “I told you, Iris is dead. Beija flor is a hummingbird in Portuguese. An inquisitive colorful bird that exists in a habitat with fatal threats.” His nostrils flare as his fingers tighten around my wrists. “You want to fly away.” My spine straightens to prove my strength. I’m not a fragile bird with clipped wings. “But you can't. Perhaps you aren’t my enemy. I haven’t decided that yet. Either way, it won’t change what you’ve seen.”
This desirable devil is a menace. I’ve divulged too much already. Painful secrets are exposed. He’s using my misplaced gravity toward him as a weapon. “Leave me alone. Like I’ve already told you, I despise you.” I emphasize my hatred as a decoy, hoping it’s enough to get rid of him.
As his groin nestles closer, he raises my arms above my head. “I’m going to fuck you. Do you want to feel me move inside you? To give in to this fading fascination between us once and for all?”
He’s a victim of this raw attraction too. The situation repulses me. My body helplessly responds to his presence. With every rushed breath, I inhale his sensual heat and intoxicating dominance. An infuriating thrum between my thighs begs for attention. That inglorious satisfaction will only be granted over my dead body.
“Answer me,” he snarls, the grit to his baritone turns raspier than before, almost desperate. “Choose silence, and I’ll find the answer for myself. I guarantee you’re wet like you were before.” The bastard actually hums as the corner of his mouth twitches. “This body . . .” His eyes darken, a liquid swirl of black lust snakes peridot. “It can’t deny how you really feel. With or without the truth cocktail you greedily enjoyed. Hearing your consent isn’t necessary when it coats my fingers. Tell me your darkest dirty secret, beija flor. Do you crave your master’s hands, his hard cock, and his ownership?”
My muddled brain agrees with the pulsating veins of fire within me. Before I can fight to conceal my inner desires, the answer trips past my lips. “Yes,” I breathe permission in a whisper. It’s almost audible, like the wings of an angel spreading wide before it topples from the heavens. “I don’t want to be here,” I snarl through gritted teeth.
It’s too late. I’ve agreed. He jerks forward, butting his forehead to mine. “Yet here we are.” His features remain stern and dangerous. “I don’t want you in my oasis, snooping about my business.”
“Then let me go.” I fight against him, squirming with no chance of breaking away. “Torture someone else. Drug that woman, Maria, or whatever her name is.”
“I’ll do more than drug her.” My stomach knots when his voice hints at an unhallowed deed. “I'll kill the lying, deceitful bitch. That’s what happens when people break my trust.” Hairs tickle my jaw. It’s both gratifying and felonious. “I’ll personally escort you to a chopper when I’m convinced trust isn’t an issue. Until then—”
Any contact we had suddenly wanes. He steps back, fluidly stripping out of his clothes. I slap my palms over my eyes, trying to right this wrong. As the metal zipper on his shorts clunks to the floor, my heart skitters.
Whatever happens tonight, I’ll survive. This man won’t ruin me. He won’t see my fall from grace. I sneer behind my blacked-out vision. Allowing a man like him to use me for sex is deplorable.
“I won’t let you touch me,” I blurt out, bringing my gaze to the naked muscular beast primed for attack.
“Yes, you will.” His throat works as he swallows. I’m in awe of gloriously golden skin, impeccable and firm from his rugged face to his defined legs.
“I’ll fight back.”
An inky twist of hair drapes his forehead, teasing thick, serious set brows. He grabs his proud cock, smiling when he catches my lashes lower to watch him stroke the length. “Fighting will make it more enjoyable. That way I know you're engaged, that you're giving in to your instincts.”
“No.” My hair bristles at the root. “Please, don’t do this.” I opt for meekness, hoping it will derail his need for war.