Juliette
He warned me we were doomed from the start, and I should have listened. But some fires burn too hot to resist.
Now, I'm trapped in a vicious cycle of desire, tangled up in Areston's dangerous world. Every kiss, every touch pulls me deeper...
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I'm naked and about to put on my dress when he marches into the walk-in closet wearing an undisturbed regal composure, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants.
I was a fool thinking I could provoke the devil and escape unscathed when I bluntly declared never changing my last name.
"Say that again, tesoro," he queries in a tone that's so tranquil I could replace Andy from Headspace and have him guide me to meditation.
It doesn't fool me though. I know the calmness is a part of his dangerous charm that he has manufactured into his personality to hide what he is. A ruthless manipulator.
"No," I look away.
I gasp when he surprises me by clenching my chin in a rough hold and forcing me to level with his fierce gaze. It sets goosebumps and trembles all over my skin.
"Repeat what you said," his smooth as the finest silk husk imbued with a deep, fiercely masculine resonance still remains serene.
He's like a relentless current of the mighty ocean that has the power to sweep me into the unfathomable depths should the grip of my feet falter on the sandy shore.
"You wouldn't be so furious if you hadn't heard it quite clearly already," I grit my jaw and try to move out only to be yanked back without any effort.
"I want you to spill your guts with the same confidence as you did when you had enough distance to run like a coward."
His other hand curves around my back and grinds me to his body in a way my naked breasts crush against his mighty chest sheathed in a Brioni tux. All the goosebumps on my skin flare. It's like the heated intensity of his silent command on me punctures all of it to penetrate into every inch of me, taming me into submission.
"No."
He hauls me closer with a painful force on my chin, bringing his mouth against my ear.
"Repeat what you said, baby," he breathes, his voice hot, the air coming out of his mouth tickling me, seducing me. "You don't want to make me tear the words out of you."
Somehow the threat strikes a chord with my raw nerve, urging me to say something that'll further provoke him, and make him punish me in a way we both find extremely gratifying. It'll solve my purpose of claiming the orgasms he owes me. But I'm wise to know he won't fall for my tricks.
"I said I'm not going to stroke your goddamn ego by taking your last name," it's a serious effort to force the words out of my mouth when his stormy gaze is constricting my throat.
This is him.
The man I saw through the facade of tranquility. Over the last couple of days, he has been at his utmost calm behavior even when he was raging at times. But this—it's a direct blow to his massive ego, something which didn't spur from the hurt he caused me but me taking fierce pride in the identity I was born with—something no one can steal—something he wants to change and mold it to match his so he can have the ownership he wants on me. It's not enough that he commands my body, sense, and soul. He wants to command everything I represent.
