Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 80139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
She’s impossible.
She’s reckless.
She’s magnificent.
I lift my hand again.
Again.
Again.
Mine.
The word flashes through me.
I crush it.
She’s not mine. I’m not sure Robin Bellamy could ever belong to anyone.
Her hips shift. Her breath breaks. Pleasure and pain twist together in the sounds she makes, and I’m ready to burst.
This isn’t about me hurting her. It’s about her taking what I give her and conjuring strength out of it.
It also makes me want her so badly I can hardly see.
I smooth my palm over the reddened curve of her skin, gentler now. “Your ass is gorgeous, Robin. Plump and perfect and red now.” I slide my fingers through her crack and down into her pussy. “And God, you’re wet. So fucking wet.”
She shivers. “Don’t get sweet on me,” she mutters.
I lean over her, my mouth near her ear. “Never.” And I thrust my cock into her wet warmth.
“Cruz,” she groans.
God, my name on her moan. I nearly erupt then, but I hold myself in check, buried balls deep.
I grip her hips.
And this time, I don’t treat her like she’s fragile.
Because she’s not fragile. She’s fire. Fucking fire.
I thrust, thrust, thrust. She gloves me perfectly, as if she were made for me.
“That’s it,” she grits out. “Take me away from here. Away from Colombia. Away from this whole fucking planet, Cruz. I want to fly. I want to fucking fly!”
My teeth clenched, I pound her harder, harder, harder, until—
“Yes!” she shrieks.
Her pussy walls clench against me as she comes, and fuck… That’s all it takes.
I spill into her, releasing.
Fuck, releasing.
And with each spurt, I feel more and more complete.
25
ROBIN
For several minutes, I don’t know where I am.
Not really.
I know clean sheets twist beneath me. Warm lamplight glows against cracked plaster.
I know Cruz is beside me.
My body feels boneless.
Ruined, but in the best way.
The post-sex fog slowly clears.
What the fuck just happened to me?
I blink at the wall. The bed is too comfortable. The sheets are too clean.
And I…
I’m…not myself.
Since when do I enjoy getting spanked?
I’ve never been spanked before during sex. It’s not something I ever thought I’d want.
But with Cruz, it was just what the doctor ordered.
Is it because of the circumstances?
I’m not a psychologist. I can’t understand why I wanted what I wanted.
All I know is it was magnificent.
I drag in a breath and let it out slowly.
Think.
I’m good at thinking.
My life is built on thinking. On reading behavior. I have to be good at it as a vet because animals can’t talk.
For the life of me, though, I can’t read what just happened between Cruz and me.
I close my eyes.
I’ve never asked a man to be rough with me. I’ve never asked to be hurt, even in a controlled way. I’ve never wanted that. Usually, I prefer tenderness. Hands that move slowly. A mouth that takes its time. Soft sheets and soft words and the kind of touch that makes a woman feel cherished instead of claimed.
Apparently I don’t know a damned thing about myself, because tonight I looked at Cruz, my captor-turned-rescuer, the man who once stood between me and freedom, and I wanted something dark.
Dark and dangerous.
I wanted the sharp edge of it. I wanted to take what was terrifying and make it mine.
Or maybe I just wanted Cruz to stop treating me like I was fragile.
I shouldn’t like it so much.
Cruz shifts beside me. Moves toward me, settles his hand on my back.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice slow.
I keep my eyes closed. “If you ask me that again, I’ll smother you with this pillow.”
He lets out a low chuckle.
I tug the sheet higher over myself, though we’re past modesty at this point.
God, I’m in trouble.
Cruz should be a means to an end. An ally of necessity.
That is all.
Except it’s not all.
It didn’t end like a transaction.
It began that way. I walked to the bed naked because I wanted to keep him close. I wanted him loyal. I wanted him invested. I wanted him too distracted by me to think about what betraying Vega might cost him.
That was the plan.
A practical plan.
Then the plan got slippery.
Strategy turned into sensation, sensation turned into wanting, and wanting turned into me lying here unable to remember the exact moment I stopped controlling and started begging.
I press the heel of my hand to my forehead. “Jesus.”
Cruz props himself up slightly. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He closes his eyes, lets out a soft snore.
This is unreal. Cruz isn’t even my type. I’m not supposed to fall for a damned mobster. I’m supposed to fall for someone like Shane.
Mild-mannered, respectable Shane, who works beside me at the Bellamy ranch and treats injured animals. Shane, who would bring my mother flowers if he came to Sunday dinner. I’ve seen the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not watching. He’s interested.
Any sane woman would choose Shane.
But I’m a Bellamy, and Bellamys have always savored a challenge when it comes to love.