Page 38 of The Dove
He reached out for her again, needing the contact, needing to feel her pliant skin at his fingertips … to force submission and regain control. Too much had happened in a short span of time, and he was unraveling, falling apart.
“I would tear us all apart if it means destroying your brother,” he hissed, his hand shooting out to grasp her face.
She whimpered, the sound sending another jolt of liquid heat straight to his cock. He saw the fear and excitement flashing in her eyes, the dark and deep yearning she hid in the black depths of her pupils. It called to him, beckoning, offering him sweet relief … peace … oblivion.
“And what of Olivia?” she challenged. “What of Serena? Adam, if you do not end this, Bertram certainly will not. If you believe that you can protect them from the consequences of your actions, then you are sorely mistaken. My brother may be a fool, but he isn’t an idiot. You will strike back at him, and he is sure to respond in kind. I cannot see how we will survive it.”
He pulled her closer, his fingers biting into her jaw, the urge to clamp a hand over her mouth and smother her words making his hands itch.
“Thanks to me, your brother no longer possesses the clout to come after me,” he snarled. “I dare him to try. Iwanthim to try.”
She sighed, lowering her eyes and backpedaling so that he was forced to release her or leave bruises on her flawless skin. Biting her lower lip, she stared up at him in silence for a moment as if wrestling with herself, debating over spitting out whatever words sat on the tip of her tongue. He saw the moment she decided to speak, to strike out at him with whatever verbal assault she had built up in her mind.
“Very well,” she murmured. “Then I will do what I must for my own peace … my own sanity.”
Curiosity had him lifting his eyebrows while a sudden wariness had him studying her for any hint to what she might be getting at.
“What are you about, little dove?” he asked.
Folding her hands before her demurely, she raised her chin and squared her shoulders—steeling herself before speaking. “Robert has asked me to marry him.”
Something inside him began to wind taut, twisting and pulling in his middle. He clenched his jaw so tight, his teeth began to ache, his entire body trembling from head to toe as her words slammed into him with all the force of a massive boulder. He took one slow step toward her, then another, closing the distance between them.
“He what?” he growled from between his clenched teeth.
She maintained her defiant stance, displaying her intention to bait him, to fight him when he pushed back. She had no notion of how much danger she put herself in just now, with him already so on edge following the other events of the evening.
“He saw me home after the ball ended in disaster,” she replied. “And he offered to take me away to Gretna Green. He wishes to be married right away, so that we may escape to Suffolk and weather out the scandal.”
Her words proved a hard, sharp poker rustling the embers he tried to stifle, making them roar to life, the heat searing him from the inside out. He clenched his fists and loomed over her, so close now, he could smell her—some fragrance he could not place, but one he always recognized as being distinctly hers. Underneath it, much deeper, he smelled her fear, her need. The beast in him licked its lips, mouth watering to sink its teeth in and claim what was his, never letting it go.
“And what did you say when he made this gracious offer tosave you, little dove?” he asked drily.
His voice held sarcasm, but there was nothing amusing about any of this. If she told him that she’d answered Robert with anything other than ‘no, and sod off’, he would not be held responsible for his actions.
Her chin trembled as if she realized she stood a few words away from the point of no return … just one step away from landing her foot in his trap and ensnaring herself.
“What. Did. You. Say?” he snapped when she hesitated.
Tightening her jaw, she tilted her head and challenged him, prepared to defy him, to beat her wings and taunt the demon lurking in the darkness. He waited with baited breath for her to say the words, to give him a reason to unleash the torrent of emotions swirling in his gut, giving it all to her.
“I told him I would consider it,” she replied in her haughtiest tone—that goddamn infuriating way of hers that made him want to make use of her mouth and shove those words back down her throat using his cock.
He had her hauled against him in an instant, his arm relentlessly tight around her waist, his other hand coming up to grip the back of her neck, digging in and refusing to let go, keeping her head in place and her eyes focused on him.
“What part ofneverdid you not understand?” he whispered, his voice low and grating as he pressed his mouth against her jaw, trailing his stubble over her sensitive skin and inhaling her scent, letting it flood his senses. “I will never let you go, little dove. You aremine, and any man who is foolish enough to think he can have you must have a death wish.”
“You do not own me anymore,” she protested, trying fruitlessly to fight against his hold, to twist away from the touch of his lips. “Not since the thirtieth day of our agreement ended … not since you let me leave Dunnottar without so much as a good-bye or even a go-to-Hell. You have no right—”
“Oh, but I do,” he interrupted, nipping at the line of her jaw with his teeth and reveling in the way it made her shudder. “You’ve momentarily forgotten, but I think we both know how easy it is for me to remind you that I haveeveryright.”
“Don’t,” she whispered weakly, already melting in his arms, and he turned and began carrying her to the bed. “Adam … don’t.”
Ignoring her feeble pleas, because nothing she could say would convince him she truly wanted him to stop, he threw her down and climbed on top of her. He straddled her, his knees on either side of her hips, his hands and arms caging in her upper body. Bending down until their lips touched, he grinned against her mouth, chuckling when she shuddered again, obviously still fighting him … fighting herself.
“Mine,” he growled before taking her lower lip between his teeth, his bite making her cry out then whimper when he began consuming her mouth.
He devoured her, drunk on her taste, but unable to get enough. He sought her tongue with his, fitting his mouth over hers until they were exchanging breaths, tongues writhing, teeth gnashing and biting. He nipped her, and she returned the bite, making him groan when she drew a drop of blood. He retreated and licked his lower lip, the tang of his life’s essence mingling with her taste on his tongue in a heady mix.
