Page 128 of Fierce Pursuit

There was something else.

Something that had my stomach twisting, my breath coming faster, my thighs pressing together involuntarily.

I was afraid of him.

But I was afraid of myself more.

“That is precisely what I am trying to avoid,” Kostya growled as he ripped the sheet from my body, his strength effortless, his movements merciless.

I barely had time to gasp before he lifted me into his arms as if I weighed nothing.

Rage burned through me, white-hot and all-consuming. I fought him with everything I had.

My fists pounded against his shoulders. My legs kicked out, desperate to break free. I twisted, thrashed, anything to loosen his grip, but his arms were steel vices around my thighs and ribs.

I couldn’t move.

He didn’t even flinch.

Didn’t grunt. Didn’t acknowledge my fight.

He simply walked into the steaming bath and sank us both into the water, dragging me down with him. The heat licked at my skin, not quite scalding. I latched onto the sides of the tub, my fingers clawing against the wet porcelain as I tried to pull myself free.

His hand shot out, tangling in my hair, yanking me back down.

A strangled gasp escaped me as he wrenched my body against his, my back flush to his broad, unyielding chest.

His other hand gripped my hip, keeping me pinned between his legs, his skin burning against mine, his strength inescapable.

I sucked in a breath, about to scream, but he jerked my head back and crushed his lips to mine.

A punishment. A claiming. A warning.

I tried to turn away, but his grip only tightened.

The more I fought, the more water sloshed over the edge, spilling onto the floor in waves, a physical echo of my panic.

His fingers fisted my hair, pulling tight enough to make me whimper.

He took advantage of the sound, his tongue slipping past my lips, invading, dominating, owning, until my struggles weakened.

I hated my body for responding.

Hated the way my pulse thundered, not just in fear, but from something darker.

Finally, he pulled back, his breath hot against my swollen lips.

“If you don’t stop arguing with me, I’ll be forced to punish you,” he said, voice low, dangerous.

My stomach dropped.

My eyes widened, shock slamming into me with an almost physical force.

How could he not see that I would not marry him?

That this was wrong?

It didn’t matter how much my body craved him, how much I enjoyed our time together when he wasn’t being a brute.

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