“This happened last year. Yet you divorced him a decade ago.”
“He never wanted the divorce and has been trying to get me back ever since. He’s a relentless pest, but that’s all he is. He shows up at my house, at my work, calls and texts and sends gifts. But it’s all harmless. He’s not a threat.”
“Until he forced himself on you. Why are you defending him?”
“I’m not. It’s just…I know him. He wouldn’t hire someone to watch me.”
“What about Evan Phillips?”
“No way. He doesn’t have the money to throw around on shit like that. Besides, we’re together all the time. He lives right next door. There’s no reason for him to hire someone to watch me.”
“You’d be surprised what a desperate man would do. He has hundreds of photos of you on his personal computer.”
“What?” A chill zinged along her scalp. She didn’t know what bothered her more—his announcement or the fact that he had access to Evan’s computer. “Hundreds?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, okay. I mean, I know he takes pictures of me with his phone sometimes. I didn’t know he saved them. But he’s with a lot of women and probably has photos of them, too.”
“Nope. Just you.”
That’s fucked up.
But was it really? Evan repeatedly pressed her to take their relationship further. Maybe he liked her more than she thought?
“Just because he has photos of me,” she said. “That doesn’t mean he hired Paul to watch me.”
He stared at her for an eternity, his face unfairly gorgeous. And blank. She would give anything to read his mind.
Growing antsy, she twisted her wrists in the handcuffs and pulled. He’d secured them correctly, ensuring she couldn’t escape and while keeping them loose enough not to cause discomfort. She could flip over but would have to sleep with her hands above her head.
Turning away, he grabbed a bottled water from the stash on the small desk and sat beside her hip.
“This is your childhood room,” she said. “You were in here when you started emailing Caroline.”
His jaw hardened as he lifted her head and helped her drink.
She knew he’d burned all the furniture and everything else that had once been in this house.
“I cried for you that day.” She drank another long gulp, draining the rest of the water. “The day you burnt your belongings. I know it was hard for you. But it was also cathartic.”
His neck stiffened, and he tossed the empty bottle in the direction of the desk.
“I want to know…” He leaned over her, his eyes ablaze with accusation. “How far did you let your ex-husband go before you told him no.”
“What?”
“You loved him enough to nearly kill yourself when he cheated.” He lowered his head, hovering his lips a hairbreadth away from hers. “When he put his mouth on you, did you open for him? Did you draw him in?”
Her mouth opened now on a shocked gasp. “No, I—”
His tongue swept in, lashing and licking at the stunned flesh of hers. She didn’t kiss him back, for this wasn’t a kiss at all. It was anger and violence. He grabbed her face and mauled her with his mouth, biting, sucking, and decimating her defenses.
Before she thought to bite him back, it ended. He stared down at her, his breaths fast and hot against her face, his lips swollen and glistening.
“Why did you do that?” she asked, furious.
“To test your reaction.”
She ground her teeth. “What did you learn?”
He touched a finger to her mouth and trailed it down her chin, her neck, her breastbone. His eyes followed the movement, his intention clear a half-second before he pinched her nipple through the shirt.
“Stop!” She wasn’t wearing a bra and had no protection against the assault. “Don’t touch me!”
“Is that what you told him?” He squeezed harder, shooting pain through her breast and stinging her eyes with tears.
“Yes!”
“You told him yes?”
“No!” She kicked her legs, aiming a knee toward his back. But she couldn’t reach him. She didn’t have the strength. “I told him no. A million times no.”
“But he couldn’t keep his hands off your hot little responsive body.” He cupped her breast in a ruthless vise, adding ungodly pressure as his thumb rolled over the pebbled peak. “Your nipples were hard before I even touched them. My God, you’re hungry.”
“You sound like a rapist.”
He clicked his tongue. “Are you wet?”
“Are you hard?”
He twisted, slid a leg over the top of hers and pressed the hardest, largest erection she’d ever felt against her hip.
Her pulse quickened. Her body shuddered, and her mouth went desert-dry.
That couldn’t be real. No goddamn way.
His cock jerked against her, and swear to God, it felt like a baseball bat was stretching the threads of his jeans from groin to knee.
Instinct bellowed at her to retreat, but she refused to wither beneath him.
“I know you get off on hurting women, but I’m a hard pass, remember?” She lifted her pelvis and pushed into the threat, challenging his execution. “Go fuck someone your own age.”
“I don’t want to fuck you, Rylee. I’m only interested in hurting you.”
He flipped her to her stomach and shoved the hem of the shirt up her back.
“What are you doing?” She jerked on the restraints and bucked beneath his ruthless hands.
He yanked down her pajama pants and exposed her bare backside.
Her breath left her.
His palm came down with a shocking, fiery smack. She gulped, stunned, and opened her mouth on a silent scream.
Another strike. And another. He wailed on her ass with all the fury of a punishing god. She could only lie there and take it like a shameful child. But she wasn’t ashamed. She was burning, panting, sinking into his blistering attention in the most sickening way.
It wasn’t just the bite of his hot palm or the delicious chill that followed each blow. It was the crescendo of his breaths, the guttural growls from his throat, and the blustering pulse in her ears, in her pussy—all of it echoing in an erotic symphony and growing faster, faster, until there was no pause between the primal beats.
Then he was on her. His hands, his teeth, tearing into her welted flesh, sinking into burning muscle, piercing skin, slapping, biting, and groaning with sexual savagery.
He spread her cheeks and took his mouth to her anus, teasing and tormenting the ring of nerves. His tongue prodded and lapped up and down her crack, delving deep. So deep. Oh, God, he knew what he was doing. If this was him when he lost his temper, she couldn’t fathom what he could do to a woman when he was in full control.
It felt too good. Too atrociously depraved and shocking. She’d wanted this level of rough, raw lust for as long as she could remember, to burn beneath the intensity of male heat, to explore the dark, uncharted corners of her imagination, but she’d never found a man who could take her there.
So instead of fighting, she lifted her ass and writhed against him to heighten the sensation.
“You fucking slut.” He spanked her again, harder, meaner. “I don’t hear you saying no. You tease men with this perfect, round ass. You fuck them and forget them and wonder why you have a stalker.”