Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“You still think you can get away?” I growl, snarling at her while she tries to twist her body from side to side, landing one ineffectual blow after another against my shoulders. “What’s it going to take? What do I have to do?”
“Get off me!” She gasps, driving a knee into my ribs. Making her dress ride up higher than it already has, and instantly a deluge of dark fantasies flood my brain.
“You just can’t resist, can you?” I growl, pinning her shoulders to the ground. She looks up at me with nothing but pure, seething hatred in her eyes, and all that does is make me more determined to make her regret this.
Before I can, her knee finds my balls—not a direct hit, not even all that hard, but enough to knock the wind out of me for a second. It’s long enough for her to wiggle out from beneath me and fight her way to her feet. My arm shoots out, and I grab one of her ankles and bring her back down, pulling her to me while she cries out in frustration.
“So this is how you want it? You like it rough?” She moans out her dismay as I part her legs and yank her closer until my body is wedged between her thighs. “Maybe I’ll send you back to your father with a few bruises?”
She fights like a wildcat, punching and clawing, slapping my hands away from every part of her I make contact with, giving me no choice but to take her by the wrists and slam them to the ground above her head. This brings me closer to her, and I don’t know what takes hold of me. Rage, frustration, or maybe something even simpler than that. The way she turns me on the more she tries to fight. Whatever it is, it leaves me lowering my head and biting her neck, and I revel in the sharp gasp that comes from her when I do.
And in the way her hips jerk upward, grinding her pussy against my painfully erect cock.
It’s a battle between fury and desire, the two fighting for dominance just like we are fighting in the grass. Now she’s not fighting so much as she’s groping—it isn’t my cock convincing me of this, either. There’s a difference between clawing when one’s trying to inflict injury and raking one’s nails over a man’s back. Between trying to buck somebody off and fighting for contact.
That contact and the sight of my bite mark on her neck are an intoxicating mix. I’m as close to making a deadly mistake as a man can get, and those blazing eyes of hers are a challenge. I have to break her. I think she wants me to.
The crack of a gunshot changes the plan.
I get up on my knees, and Elena sits up with a gasp. “What—?” I cover her mouth with my hand, watching in horror as Prince collapses next to the car. Even at a distance, there’s no missing the deep red stain spreading over the front of his shirt.
I shove Elena onto her back, still covering her mouth. A man dressed in black approaches the car and looks inside. Searching for something. For what? I don’t know, nor do I have the chance to find out before pressing my body flat against Elena’s and holding a finger to my lips. From where we are, I can no longer see what’s happening by the hangar. I need to be able to hear, but all that fills my ears is the sound of her strangled whimpers and the blood rushing in my veins.
After what feels like an eternity, there’s the revving of an engine, and moments later, the sound fades to nothing. When I take a chance and raise my head, I see what’s left of a cloud of dust trailing behind the car fleeing the scene.
That’s when I take her by the hand and haul her upright, running to reach Prince before it’s too late.
If it isn’t already.
11
ALICIA
I’ve never been so tired in my whole life. I didn’t know it was possible to be this tired and still be standing. Now that the worst is over, it’s like my body and my brain have completely given up. Like I fought so hard to stay on my feet for so long that I have no choice but to shut down.
But Prince is stabilized. At least, I think he is. The bleeding seems to have slowed to nothing more than a slight oozing, and that’s a hell of a lot better than the way it was at first.
As long as I live, I’ll never forget the one-two punch of finding Prince lying flat on his back with his shirt soaked in blood—and realizing Enzo expected me to do something about it.