Granted, those rewards aren’t frequent, but knowing they could come at any time drives me. “God, Rose, what have you done?” I should have kept my eyes to myself. Should have stayed well away. I slowly slip out of my dress.
Danny Black’s physique is intimidating fully clothed. Naked?
I push my panties down my thighs and drop them on a nearby chair with my dress. Then I brace myself to climb into the huge bed. The irony doesn’t escape me. Of all the hard things I’ve done and still do, getting in this bed is one of the hardest. It’s massive. We could probably go the entire night without touching. Yet I know he’s going to make that impossible. He’s going to torture me in a way I’ve never been tortured before. And I’ve been on the receiving end of some pretty brutal punishments in my time.
It’s going to be a long night.
But I’ll survive it. It’s what I’m best at. Survival. As well as screwing.
Screwing. What would it be like to screw . . .
No. It would never be worth the risk, even if I know beyond doubt that fucking Danny Black would be an experience worth enduring. Because I’d be fucking him and wanting to.
“Jesus, Rose.” I quickly realign my thoughts. The man’s a killer. I need my head checking.
I settle and pull the sheet over me as the door opens and he enters. I close my eyes, escaping the magnificent vision. How attractive he is, how attracted to him I am, only makes me hate him more. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s pretty much signed my death sentence.
“Open your eyes.” There’s demand in his tone that I know I shouldn’t ignore. So I do what I do best. What I’m told, though with Danny Black it’s a challenge when it should be easy, given his reputation.
His face is impassive when I find him, his long, thick fingers on his shirt buttons. He’s going to make me watch him undress. I hate him more. Every inch of his skin that’s revealed takes more and more of the air in my lungs until he gets to his trousers and I’m left holding my breath. His torso is impossibly hard. His thighs are impossibly thick. His legs are impossibly long and lean. He’s a fucking masterpiece. A deadly masterpiece. I breathe in deeply.
I have to sleep with this.
I despise him.
He walks to the bed and pulls the covers back, exposing my naked form to his eyes. My body has never been my own so if he’s expecting me to try and hide, he’ll be disappointed. Yet I see no disappointment on his face. I see nothing, actually. Not even appreciation. His expression is blank, and that strips me of the little power I have in my life. My body is my only weapon, and he seems immune to it.
Sliding in smoothly, he lies on his back. There’s a foot between us, but it feels like just a millimeter. I’m on fire. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the insane, uncontrollable, mysterious pull. Why? I should be overjoyed that some feelings have been uncovered. Overjoyed that I’m apparently not completely emotionally dead. But all these reactions are for a man I should not be reacting to. The strange mixture of wariness and desire is playing havoc with my mind.
I flip myself onto my side, my back to him, staring ahead at the wall. And then there’s suddenly no wall to look at. Just darkness. He’s turned off the lights.
I’m so tense, there’s not a hope in hell of me getting any sleep. Not when he’s in bed with me. How long will I have to be here? How long before I’m taken back to where I belong? How long until Nox finds me?
The mattress beneath me dips, and my body rolls with it. He’s moving, and I hold my breath, waiting for . . . what?
Will he touch me? Climb on top of me? Force me? And will I fight him if he does?
His bare foot brushes mine. It’s just a foot, but his skin on mine isn’t a simple touch. It’s an inferno, raging and screaming. My tense body swiftly shifts into brittle territory. I’m going to break. He slides his foot across mine, and no matter how desperate I am to whip mine away, I don’t. I’m not sure whether it’s that thing ingrained into me to do what’s expected of me, or the fact that I