SEVENTEEN

Royce’s ludicrous statement punched an empty laugh from my chest. “I’m not.”

His eyes went loud with a challenge. “Then why didn’t you tell him?”

I ignored him. My gaze swung longingly to the shower as I crossed my arms over my stomach and held in what little warmth I had.

But Royce wasn’t going to let it go. He stepped between me and the water that rained from the ceiling and gurgled quietly down the drain, blocking my view so he was all I could see. Nothing but high cheekbones and full lips and eyes that stared relentlessly.

“Why’d you go through with the initiation?” His voice was steady and calm, but there was power buried in his words. “Why’d you play his game and save my board seat after I’d sold you to him? I mean, if you wanted to fuck my life over, that was your opportunity—but you didn’t. Tell me why.”

Everything was unraveling. “I don’t know!”

“Sure you do.” His cocky expression was seriously hot but also infuriating. Heat sparked inside me, and I latched on to it. He tilted his head and gave an impish smile. “You’re not the first girl to fall in love with me.”

“I’m not in love with you,” I hissed.

“We said no lies,” he reminded.

Oh, my God. I was going to murder him. Flames licked at my body, melting the ice.

His hand slipped inside his pocket and produced the ring. “You’re not the first girl to fall in love with me, Marist. But you’re going to be the last.”

My heart skipped and tumbled, wanting to believe, but my brain knew better. It flew into protection mode, refusing to accept what he’d said. “Now who’s lying?”

“Not me.” His conviction was absolute. “Put this ring on, back where it belongs.”

“This isn’t real,” I cried. “You’re just saying what you think I want to hear. Anything to keep me in check so your dad’s satisfied and everything goes according to your plan. This isn’t what you want.”

Heat flared in his eyes, two torches burning as he closed the ring up in a tight fist and began to toe off his shoes. “You want to know what I fucking want? I’ll show you.”

The ring was jammed back in his pocket, freeing up his hands so he could use them. One banded around my back and the other grabbed my ass, and a startled noise squeaked from me as I was lifted into his embrace. His face was furious. Resolute. He carried me into the shower, his feet splashing into the water pooled around the drain.

Hot water sluiced over our bodies. It drenched us and the clothes we wore in a matter of seconds, but not before I’d gasped in shock. Royce didn’t waver. Like he’d done in the rainstorm, as the water poured over him, he didn’t appear to notice. He’d ambushed me, and once I’d been captured, there was no escape.

Not that I wanted to.

He dropped me on my feet beneath the showerhead, and I only got a flash of his hungry look as I brushed a sopping lock of hair back out of my face. It was because his hands curled around the undone neckline of my shirt, and then he pulled the sides apart so hard, it sent buttons tinging and skittering across the tiled walls. Water slung everywhere.

It was . . . violent.

Primal and fucking erotic.

A muscle deep between my legs tightened and pulsed at his breathtaking action.

With the shirt out of his way, he hooked his fingers into the cup of my bra and jerked it down, setting my breast free. I bit my lip and threaded my hands in his soaked hair as his greedy mouth latched on to my nipple.

“Fuck,” I groaned. The throaty word bounced and echoed in the shower.

He was rough and wild, like a man pushed beyond his breaking point. Careless hands pawed at me, yanking the ruined shirt off my shoulders and down my arms until it fell into a sodden heap.

The other cup of my bra was jerked down so my breasts were pushed out over the tops, and he gave a sexy grunt as he bit the newly exposed flesh.

I wasn’t cold anymore. It was scorching in the shower. I arched my back, jutting my breasts into his face so he could better tease me. His tongue slid over my slick, glistening skin, flicking angrily back and forth over my distended nipple, punishing me with each lash.

I loved it.

But it wasn’t enough for him. He stood, slung back the water off his intense face, and seized my shoulder. It was so he could turn me around and get at the clasp of my bra. He undid the two hooks, releasing the tension on the band, and as soon as the bra began to slide down my arms, he was there, cupping my breasts with his hands, squeezing hard and cruel.

Royce brought our lower bodies together, pushing his hips into my ass. The thrust had enough force I had to slap my hands against the glass wall that looked out into the bathroom to stop myself from going headfirst into it. When he ground his erection against me, simulating what he wanted to do without clothes in our way, my body went white-hot.

One of his hands grasped my hip, and his fingers dug in, holding me as he rubbed the protruding zipper of his pants over my ass. His tone was merciless. “You want it?”

Oh, God, how I did. I matched his aggression, becoming a snarling, desperate thing. “Give it to me.”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me toward him, curving me uncomfortably back so he could growl it in my ear. “After you put on my fucking ring.”

He released me with a shove, and my elbows banged into the glass, but he didn’t care. This was a man with purpose and drive, who’d spent too much time under his father’s rule. He was an alpha off the leash, determined to reestablish his dominance.

Royce grabbed my left hand, and then the ring was there, being jammed back down on its home on my finger. He let out a heavy sigh when it was done like he’d just defused a bomb.

His fingers scored down my back and skimmed around my body, flowing over the waistband of my pants until he found the snap at the top of my fly. It popped open with a soft crack, followed by the vrip of my zipper, and his deft hand shoved down the front of my panties.

“Oh,” I whispered.

My fingers squealed against the glass as I tightened my hands into fists. His touch lit me up, made pleasure burst inside my core. The rough, mean stroke of his fingers over such a delicate part of me felt good. Dirty. Deserved.

Our hurried breaths competed with the sound of the water beating down on us.

I tipped my head forward, resting it against the glass, and although the shower was steamy, I could make us out in the mirror across the room. Me, topless and slumped over, him behind me, one white-sleeved arm cutting across my body as his hand disappeared into my pants. They were so drenched they almost looked black.

His stirring hand made me mindless. I moaned and sighed in bliss, rocking back against his hips to try to signal what I wanted.

He straightened and withdrew from me. “Get those pants off,” he ordered. “Show me your ass.”

It was strange how I welcomed his control when any other time I would’ve hated it. His commands set my blood on fire and made my fingers clumsy with lust, but I was able to work the tight, wet pants down over my hips, one side and then the other until they were bunched at my knees.

Threads ripped as he hurried to undo his cuffs and then the buttons of his shirt before flinging it to the floor. It made a wet slap against the tile. I closed my eyes in a slow blink, caught under his spell as his large palm wandered appreciatively over my backside. He squeezed the round globe of one ass cheek and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Whatever it was, it sounded complimentary.

His belt buckle rang out. Then his zipper. In the shapes in the mirror, I saw the blue color of his pants fall halfway down his thighs.

The ache for him was awful. It made my knees wobble and my chest tight. The only relief was him and the connection of our bodies. He raked his fingers down my back, gripping my underwear and tugging it down my ass until it was just out of his way.

Heat engulfed me as the thick head of him stroked through my slit, preparing, and in one quick move he rammed into me, all the way to the base.

“Fuck.” Everything tensed from the ache.

He froze. “Too fast?”

It was only the third time I’d had sex, and never in this position before, which made him feel huge and like he went on forever. It was uncomfortably tight and full, and I swallowed hard. Yes, it was too fast, but I also liked it. His urgent need to have me mirrored my own. It felt dire the moment before he’d shoved himself inside me. So, I bit the inside of my cheek and shook my head, hoping he’d keep going. I needed him to show me the truth with his body, since it was the only way I believed him.

His first thrust was brutal and splashed water onto the glass. It cascaded down, showing us our image in distorted ripples. I cried out with both agony and ecstasy. Fuck, it felt good. Like scratching an itch until it was raw.

Royce’s hands were firm on my shoulder and my hip, holding me steady as he pushed himself ruthlessly inside my body, so hard the slap of skin meeting wet skin clapped in the air. He grunted with satisfaction as he found the tempo he wanted to fuck me at. It was savage. Unforgiving. Hardwired and driven by thousands of years of instinct to claim and own.

We moved as one, grinding and sliding and pushing our bodies together. Moans poured from my lips and dripped down my neck. Tremors shook my legs, but I supported myself with my hands flattened to the glass.

“I’m so fucking deep inside you,” he growled.

I exhaled loudly, my body clenching and gripping the cock sawing between my legs.

He was the only man I’d been with, but I couldn’t imagine how it could get any better than this. He leaned forward, putting his splayed fingers on the glass beside mine, and canted his hips, rocking himself against me like we were both at war and yet partners moving toward the same goal. The warm skin of his soaked chest flattened to my back, and his mouth crashed down on the side of my neck.

“Oh, my God,” I said. My eyes wanted to roll back in my head, but if I let them, I wouldn’t be able to see the sexy picture playing out in the mirror. I swiped my palm over the steamy condensation, clearing a spot to look through.

“I’ll fuck you like this every night if I have to, Marist, so you don’t forget who you belong to.” Like that was a threat instead of a reward.

And, please. Like I could ever forget.

His labored breathing ratcheted up, as did his moans, and one of his hands snaked between my thighs, finding the place where we were utterly connected. He rolled two fingers over my clit, spinning circles of pleasure and bliss.

“Oh, fuck,” I whined. It was the only word I could find. A blunt hammer to use to try to express so much.

He sucked on my earlobe and released it with a soft pop. His voice was domineering. “Tell me you love me.”

What? Even if it was true, I wasn’t going to say it now, like this. “No.”

“Tell me, and I’ll make you come,” he offered.

His fingers and his thrusts slowed to a crawl, and in an instant, the heat I’d had for him flipped upside down. He thought he could coax those three little words from me by withholding pleasure.

By manipulating me.

I pushed his hand out of my way and took over. “I don’t need you for that.”

He stopped moving, still lodged deep inside me, and must have realized his mistake. “Wait, I’m—”

But it was too late. I’d been on the cusp, and with my new agenda, I entered the endgame. I rubbed furiously back and forth, the swell of my orgasm building to a roar. Pinpricks and tingles washed down my legs, both hot and cold as my vision narrowed.

I panted, drinking in the humid air while my climax bore down.

And I fell over the edge, flying and coming and moaning my release, my ecstasy-filled cry echoing over the rain. The pulse of my body set him in motion, milking him until he had no choice. My orgasm vaulted him unwillingly past the point of no return.

“Jesus, fuck,” he spat.

Rough hands locked onto my hips, pushing and pulling. He went from not moving at all, to a breakneck, frantic speed, and the motion prolonged my orgasm. It went on and on, with crests and valleys like a yacht rolling through the sea.

He seized, his body cording with satisfaction, and his thrusts became jerky and shallow, slowing to a stop. He groaned into the side of my neck, his chest shuddering against my back. I wasn’t happy with what he’d tried to do, but this? Feeling him lose control was sexy as hell.

And it made me feel powerful.

I was bent awkwardly with my forearms against the glass and his body over mine, but I wasn’t in a hurry to pull away.

“Okay,” he said between deep, recovering breaths, “I fucked that up at the end, there.”

I didn’t give him a response, letting my silence speak for me.

Finally, I went to move, and he straightened, giving me room to stand. We’d been in such a rush, my pants and underwear were down around my knees, and I worked to strip them off.

Royce did the same with his suit pants and underwear, and then we were both naked, standing in the shower and looking at each other with unsure eyes. He made a face like he wanted to say something, but it took him forever to get it out.

“I’m sorry.” He moved in until his shadow fell over me, blocking the light overhead. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole and push.” He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should confess it. “I, uh, haven’t heard anyone say that to me since my mom . . . It’s been a long time.”

Only fifteen years.

My heart ached for him, both the loss of his mother and for the family who never said they loved each other. So, I understood why he was eager to hear it again.

“I get it.” I reached up and used my fingertips to trace his strong jawline. “But you can’t make me. When I say it, it’ll be on my terms.”

He nodded in understanding. He slipped a hand behind my back and fitted me against him. His other hand palmed mine, his thumb flicking over the engagement ring.

We hadn’t kissed. Not since the dressing room yesterday, and so when his lips covered mine, electricity flowed through me. It sizzled across my skin, drawing goosebumps and delicious shivers.

The kiss deepened, thickened. A different kind of longing made my body heavy and weightless at the same time. I didn’t just want him like this, a rough fuck in the shower. I wanted all of him.

He turned us under the steady stream of water, so my back was against the tile, and I could see around him while his mouth traveled down my neck. We looked amazing like this. My hand draped over the muscles of his back, my eyes lidded. Two lovers unable to control the passion between them.

Tonight, I wasn’t Medusa. If he was Ares, then I was Aphrodite.

I closed my eyes and hoped our love story wouldn’t suffer the same fate theirs had.