Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
She was a powerless woman beneath a powerful man. She couldn’t dictate positions and speeds or the degree of pain and pleasure. She wasn’t having sex to wheedle information, control the results, or search for meaning in her life.
Yet there was power in just being, in letting it all go as he made the rules, led the movements, and determined the purpose. It felt…right. Amid the ugly, conflicted honesty of what was really happening, it was perfect.
She didn’t just feel him between her legs. She felt him everywhere, ripping her apart and putting her back together in a way that served him. But somehow, it served her, too.
He kissed her, and she lost herself in the thirsty strokes of his tongue, the heat of his breaths, and the promise of his hunger. She kissed the boy who haunted her and the man who filled her with dread. And somewhere between the shadows of her past and her future, she surrendered.
Whether he saw it on her face or felt it in her kiss, he knew, his eyes sparkling with flickering fire. His hands cupped her head, his fingers shaking and hips ramming as he groaned through labored breaths.
“Swear to God, Camila. I’m trying not to come.” He slammed his mouth against hers and devoured her lips with frenzied bites and licks. “I’m not stopping until you’re trembling around my cock.” He ground against her clit and hardened his voice. “Come with me.”
His command triggered a swell of electric heat between her legs. He captured her moan in his mouth, kissing her deeply, assertively, and undoing her completely.
She broke the kiss with a hoarse gasp as the orgasm rolled over her in pounding waves. He rode her through it and followed her off the edge with something akin to awe widening his eyes and slacking his mouth. Without releasing her from his gaze, he came with a rumbling groan that faded into breathlessness as he slowly dragged his cock in and out, drawing out his pleasure.
Remnant vibrations twitched and jerked between them, their breaths jagged, bodies damp with sweat, and his cock still inside her. Once her pulse returned to normal and her lungs caught up, he loosened the knots on her arms and kissed each wrist with heartbreaking affection.
His tenderness made her want impossible things. Happy endings didn’t exist in a cartel compound that housed slaves with sewn lips. She was here for them, not him, and he knew it. So why the devotion in his expression? Why bother giving her pleasure at all? Maybe he genuinely loved her. Or maybe he wanted to destroy her. Both options terrified the hell out of her.
She tensed to push him away, his weight suddenly too hot and heavy, but her liquid bones refused to move.
“Camila.” He studied her face for a moment then sighed, and pulled out of her.
He left the bed, but didn’t go far, disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a washcloth.
Numb and suspicious, she lay still while he gently cleaned between her legs. Then he tossed the towel on the floor, rolled her on her side, and curled around her possessively with his chest against her back.
Caring for her. Cuddling with her. Her chest tingled with warmth, longing for more.
It was too much. Too wrong. She wriggled and shoved. “Why are you doing this?”
He refused her the distance she needed, holding her against him with an arm hooked around her ribs and a leg wedged between her thighs.
“I’ve been deprived of your touch for twelve years.” He found her hand in the bedding, twined their fingers together, and kissed her shoulder. “Now that you’re finally here, I’ll deny myself nothing.”
“If I fight and tell you no, will you fuck me anyway? Would you have raped me tonight?”
“Yes.”
It wasn’t his answer that shot a violent tremor through her body. It was the way he delivered it—swift, cold, and with unwavering conviction.
“Shh. I know you’re scared.” He tucked her hands against her chest and massaged the blood back into her fingers.
“Because you’re a raping, slave-trading monster.”
“Yes, but once you fall in love with a monster, you no longer fear them.”
SUNLIGHT WARMED CAMILA’S LEGS through the bedsheets. She lifted her gaze toward the glass wall and squinted at the brilliant blue backdrop. Maybe Tate or one of the others was looking up at that very moment, beneath the very same sky, thinking of ways to find her. The likelihood that she’d never see them again made her heart sink, but determination charged through it, energizing her blood.
Except she couldn’t move. She could barely breathe in the solid arms that restrained her more effectively than chain or rope.
“When are we leaving this bed?” She pushed against Matias’ shoulder, fingers grazing the tattooed branches.
“Someday, never,” he said in a sleepy voice, pulling her impossibly closer, chest to chest.