Page 19 of The Black Lion
Taking hold of her face, he tipped Arabella’s head back and loomed over her, nostrils flaring and upper lip peeling back into a snarl.
“Perhaps it would be easier to believe you had I not witnessed him with his hand in your bodice and his tongue down your throat only a few nights ago. Tell me, Bella … was it Will’s money and status that seduced you, or simply that my absence made it too difficult for you to keep your legs together?”
Arabella snatched out of his hold, bracing both hands against his chest to shove away from her. She was uncertain where such strength had come from, nor could she control the hurt and fury propelling her to give chase as he stumbled off the side of the bed to land on his feet. Launching herself at him, she pummeled him with clenched fists, striking his chest, his shoulders. Her open palm cracked against his jaw twice before he finally wrestled her into submission, taking both her wrists in an ironclad grip and hauling her up until she balanced precariously on tiptoe. She peered at him through eyes gone hazy with tears, her cheeks hot and flushed, her chest heaving as she fought to get herself back under control. She had never been possessed of a quick temper, nor could she remember ever raising her hand to another person.
Drew had pushed her too far. After all the years of waiting and wanting, mourning and dying a little inside each day, she was now to have her integrity and honesty questioned? After all she had endured, it was simply too much.
“Damn you,” she sobbed bowing her head to avoid the penetrating disgust in his eyes. “If you don’t believe me, then I will prove it. Take me to bed, right now, and see for yourself.”
His fingers clenched tighter around her wrists, his breaths harsh against her cheek. She opened her eyes and returned his stare, determined to maintain whatever dignity she might have left. Offering herself to him this way wasn’t what she would have wanted, but her options were few. He would have her one way or another, and the sooner she allowed it to happen, the sooner Drew would come to see the truth. Then there was the fact that despite the fear this new side of him inspired, Arabella still wanted him, still loved him in a way that defied explanation. The man she loved was still in there, somewhere, and she would take what he had become if it meant she could also have the other parts of him.
“Do it,” she whispered when he simply stared at her, mouth pinched, eyes boring into hers. “Do it and learn the truth. Or, convince yourself I’m still a liar and be damned.”
Drew spun her around and pushed her facedown on the bed. Turning to glance over her shoulder with her heart lodged in her throat, Arabella noted the flash of his dagger just before he mounted the bed—the same one he’d used to cut off her garments last night. She drew in a sharp breath when the sharp point made contact just beneath the base of her skull, lightly whispering down her spine. The cool metal tickled despite its dangerous trajectory, sending sensation and goosebumps rippling over her skin.
Her chest swelled, and she took in great gulps of air as he cut through the ribbons of her stays, the garment falling open to ease its restriction on her waist.
She hardly had time to adjust to the swift change before he was turning her back over, snatching the undergarment free of her arms and hurling it off the side of the bed.
The warm air seeping through her shift reminded her of her hidden secret, and Arabella pressed a hand to her chest.
“Wait, I …”
“No,” he snapped, tearing her hand away and pressing it to the bed. “No more waiting.”
His other hand grasped the neckline of her shift and he pulled, rending the garment as if it were made of paper. She kept her gaze upon his face as he discovered what she hid between her breasts, his hardened expression melting into one of astonishment. Releasing her wrist, he plucked the little circle of wood from her body, leaving behind an angry red wheal. She’d had the wood pressed against her for so long that the imprint of the lion’s face was left behind, nearly a mirror image for the one etched across his chest.
Drew held the talisman up and studied it, his jaw working as if he ground his teeth, his eyes flashing with emotion she doubted he would want anyone to see. The tension between them seemed to dissipate, anger giving way to understanding, awe, and—on Arabella’s part—relief. Surely the sight of his talisman spoke to him in a way her words never could. He must now understand that as surely as the lion had been etched against her skin, so had he been imprinted onto her heart, her soul.
“Bella,” he whispered, his voice thick and heavy as he shifted his stare from the talisman to her.
She gave him a shaky smile and reached up to touch his face. This time, he allowed it, leaning his jaw into her palm with a tortured sigh. Pity for him overwhelmed her as she realized that in the midst of all his anger and indignation had been something else. Fear, perhaps, that she might have actually loved and wanted Will all along? Instead of being wroth with him for doubting her, she wanted to weep for him. What must it be like to feel as if no one could be trusted? What had happened to make him doubt everything—even the depth of her love for him?
“I told you, I was never his. I was always yours, Drew. Even when I thought you were dead … I’ve always been yours.”
With a low groan, he kissed her palm, then trailed his tongue along her middle finger. He opened his mouth to envelope it, sucking it deep into his warm mouth. Then, he pressed the talisman to her palm and closed her fingers around it. She clung tight to the wood as he lowered his head and claimed her mouth with unrestrained hunger.
He smothered her gasp of surprise and delight with his tongue, plunging it into her mouth without the gentle whisper of a prelude. Drew was consuming her, sucking and biting at her lip, rubbing his tongue against hers.
Strong hands gripped her shift, finishing the rip in the fabric and pulling it apart. His eyes glittered like brilliant gold as he looked at her, his gaze stroking over the mounds of her naked breasts, the nipples puckering without so much as the touch of his hand. He nudged his way between her stockinged legs, and slipped one hand beneath her to cup her buttocks. He arched her up against him, pressing the hard, hot ridge of his cock against her mound. She whimpered, her clit pulsing in response to the light pressure, the promise of more.
“I’m going to fuck you, Bella, and I don’t have it in me to be gentle. Not this time. Maybe not ever.”
She wrapped her legs around his hips and deepened the arch of her back, pressing tighter against him and sending flutters of pure pleasure through her entire being. It seemed her every nerve ending had come alive now that she was in his arms again. It didn’t matter if he was gentle like a lover or cruel like a conquering pirate. She wanted him as he was now, alive and hers.
“I don’t care.”
He fell on her again, stretching her wrists over her head and retrieving the cord he’d used to lash her to the bed overnight. He tied her there again, securing her hands and leaving her at his mercy. Then, he cupped her breasts, squeezing until she squirmed, the touch both pleasurable and painful.
“Mine,” he rasped, pinching her nipples until she cried out, then lowering his head to lap at them. “All mine.”
“Yes!” she cried as he clenched a nipple between his teeth, tugging and licking and sending liquid heat melting through her. “Yes, Captain.”
He kissed his way up her chest, his tongue stroking hotly over the brand of the lion against her sternum, then up toward her neck. She squirmed beneath him, the cords biting into her wrists and her arms aching as she fought against her bonds. What she wouldn’t give to touch him and hold him, exploring the familiar body changed by time and labor. But he was as merciless a lover as he was a giving one, keeping her bound and interspersing sharp bites of his teeth with warm flicks of his tongue. His sucking lips were sure to leave bruises, the marks of his possession that would linger long after he finished with her.
Time had changed nothing, except, perhaps, the intensity and hardness of the man on top of her. But he still knew where to touch and kiss her, playing her body like an instrument he’d set down but then picked back up as if he had never left it. She panted against his shoulder as he reached down to unfasten his breeches, pressing open-mouth kisses anywhere her mouth touched, needing to feel and taste him however she could. He bent his neck to offer himself, deep moans echoing in his throat as she nibbled and licked, then bit his shoulder. A heavy hand fell on the inside of one thigh, pushing her apart, spreading her wider. Then, he was fisting his cock, stroking it in long pulls as he angled it between her legs.
She gazed down as he knelt up and took hold of her waist, pulling her into position. Arabella trembled at the sight of his cock poised to enter her, swollen and intimidating, as relentless as the man it belonged to. He pressed against her opening, hissing through his bared teeth to find her soaking wet. His grip on her waist tightened enough to leave fingerprints, his entire body coiling tight, his gaze blazing hot and locked with hers. His face contorted with animalistic ferocity as he drew back and then surged his hips, tearing into her with his cock.
