Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 7
OLIVIA
His kiss was hard, bruising my lips as he claimed my mouth.
I didn’t know what to do.
My body wanted to sink into his touch, bask in his warmth, and let him dominate me.
Part of me, a surprisingly large part of me, craved submitting to him, admitting that every time he touched me, shivers ran up and down my spine.
When he touched my behind, an unfamiliar pressure built in my core.
When his fingers grazed my pussy, I almost cried out in pleasure.
It couldn’t be because of who he was; surely it was because no man had ever touched me.
This had to be the champagne lowering my inhibitions.
I wasn’t attracted to Marksen, not anymore, not since we were teenagers.
This was just what happened when a man touched a woman who was tipsy.
But there was another part of me, a voice screaming in my head that this was not how this was supposed to happen.
I had waited my whole life for a Prince Charming, someone who would be worthy of earning my submission.
Marksen was not that man.
He didn’t want me to give my submission freely.
He didn’t want to earn it, to prove he was the best man for me.
No, he wanted to take it, to force it from me.
There was something dark and twisted about what he was doing.
Every touch, every kiss, every caress was made out of anger and revenge.
This wasn’t about me … or us.
This was about his retribution against my brother.
As he said, I was nothing more than a pawn.
His lips were on mine, and his hand was still on my punished ass as he crushed me to him.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
My very existence depended on Marksen.
Deprived of oxygen, my head swam as he deepened the kiss. His tongue pushing deeper into my mouth as his hand moved under my thigh to slip inside the thin barrier of my thong panties.
Unable to fight back against my own downfall, I tumbled further into the dark abyss of his embrace.
My fingers slid into the softness of his short brown hair. He moaned into my mouth as his hands gripped my ass harder, pressing me into him tighter and sending a shock of pleasurable pain up my spine.
I shamelessly ground my hips against him.
He moaned my name.
Dammit, that moan made my mind go hazy, my body burn hotter.
False bravado and taunts aside, he couldn’t hide that he was just as affected by my kiss as I was by his. I savored the taste of the small victory mingled with the bittersweet taste of orange and bourbon from the old-fashioned he had just drunk, which still lingered on his lips.
I wanted him, but I hated him.
I didn’t need oxygen to live, I needed him.
Still, I reminded myself, he didn’t love me … and I didn’t love him.
He was using me to get back at Luc.
This wasn’t about loving or even wanting me.
It was about revenge.
That realization alone was enough to snap me out of whatever leftover champagne rose-colored haze was obviously still clouding my mind and leading me to act on my baser instincts.
As if dunked in cold water, I suddenly remembered where I was and how I got here.
Marksen had abducted me.
Marksen had humiliated me.
Marksen was using me.
He touched me where no other man had ever dared to touch me and made me feel hot, overwhelmed, and powerless, but only as a manipulative game against my family.
There may not have been anything I could do about the hot or the overwhelmed, but I refused to be powerless.
I was Olivia Eireann Manwarring.
I was the daughter of Lucian Manwarring, Sr., one of the country’s most powerful businessmen, and the sister of Luc Manwarring, who was more of a ruthless bastard than my father could ever be.
Not to mention my family had Irish mob ties, and I was a successful boss bitch in my own right.
My privilege may have meant that I had lived a sheltered life and that I didn’t have a lot of experience with men, but I wasn’t stupid, and I sure as hell wasn’t powerless.
If Marksen wanted a toy to entertain him for the flight, he could play with the seemingly more than willing stewardess.
She, at least, was on his payroll.
With more strength than I knew I possessed, I knocked Marksen’s hand from my throat and broke the kiss, getting to my feet.
Without a single thought, I reared back and slapped his face with everything I had.
His head snapped to the side on impact, fire erupting over my palm.
I hit him. I had never hit anyone in my life.
Marksen got to his feet and towered over me.
His eyes shot daggers at me, made brighter by the vivid red handprint on his cheek.
I took a small step back.
He had already proven he was not above violence, and there was no escaping him.