Page 8 of Unwillingly His

But that didn’t stop his lips from moving down my neck.

With a vicious twist, he tore my shirt open. The delicate pearl buttons snapped then pinged and clattered as they skittered across the floor.

The cool air caressed my sensitive flesh, but that did not last.

His gaze trailed over my body, quickly heating my skin.

I sank my fingernails into his shoulders. “This is wrong. You have to stop.”

It did nothing to deter him as he pressed his cock harder against my stomach, making sure I felt every inch.

“You cannot win. Submit to me,” he rasped against the sensitive skin just under my jaw.

His words brought the cold back.

This time in the form of a spike of frozen fear down my spine.

Submit?

What does he mean by that?

CHAPTER 5

STELLA

Did he mean sex?

Here? In this public conference room?

Over this scarred and used table?

Holding onto my virtue into my twenties had been a choice.

I knew my worth.

And despite what Lucian might think, I’d also taken my responsibility as an heiress seriously. No man was going to one night and flight me, ruining my chances of an advantageous marriage.

I had a plan for my life, and it included marrying well and being a respected, high society matron. As an alumnus of Brearley Academy, I intended to continue the commitment to charity and community service instilled in me at the distinguished Upper East Manhattan school.

I might have been young, but I knew how the world worked.

Money bought a person influence.

And influence gave a person power for change.

With my fortune and a good marriage, I could influence legislation and policy as well as affect real change in people’s lives through better education, supporting the arts, scholarships.

The sky was the limit.

My parents had never believed in my altruistic vision, especially my father.

While I grieved for their loss and would never have wished them harm, their deaths had freed me.

Finally I could realize my goals and have a real purpose in life beyond being the dutiful daughter.

And none of this included becoming the kept, trophy wife of Lucian Manwarring.

People jeered behind his back that his first wife had really died of hypothermia instead of in childbirth. While I thought that was an impossibly cruel thing to say about anyone, even him, I couldn’t help thinking there was a reason why his name hadn’t been attached to any woman since her death twenty years ago.

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