Page 32 of Bitter Secrets

“No.”

Her voice was a mere thread of sound. She could feel every bite pulsing as if it had a heartbeat—behind her knee, the pad of her thumb, wrist, hip, and twice on her inner thighs.

He rose above her and kissed away her tears. “You belong to me. You always have.”

“No—"

He covered her mouth with his, drank in her denial, and filled her with suffocating heat. His kiss was hard, possessive, domineering. The force of his personality beat at her, demanding her submission. She felt like a kite in a hurricane, but she held fast. She bore his marks and wore his ring, but she wouldn’t give him what he wanted. This wasn’t a marriage where he demanded and she gave. If he wanted, he had to take. She just wished she didn’t like it so fucking much.

He broke the kiss and stared down at her with primal needs swimming in his eyes. Her insides quivered.

“Tell me,” he ordered.

She shook her head.

The flash of rage should have terrified her. Instead, she had to suppress the hysterical urge to giggle. Maybe he’d finally broken her, and she wasn’t functioning properly…

“Say you’re mine.” He saw the denial in her eyes and reached between her legs. “You’re wet for me.” He held his glistening hand between them before he swiped it over her puckered breast. “Your body’s aching for me.”

“I can take it.” She could take on anything. Discomfort was her constant companion.

“You want me to leave you like this?”

His disbelief made her want to laugh, but she was afraid that would push him over the edge.

“I can call one of your whores to—”

One hand dove into her hair and held her still for a scorching kiss as his other hand went to his pants. She clung to sanity with her fingertips and tried to list all the reasons she hated him, but when he slammed inside her, she smiled. He raised his head and looked down at her. She didn’t clear her expression fast enough.

“I’ll break you later,” he promised as he began to move.

His eyes were alight with lust and a hunger as savage as her own. The luxurious fabric of his coat chafed her bare thighs as he fucked her, keeping her ass on the very edge of the bed as he plundered. Tears slipped from the corner of her eyes as he drove her toward that cliff where they would fall. She chanted, hands tangling in his coat as her orgasm loomed. He responded by impaling her on him and then grinding until her mind disintegrated. Language deserted her as ecstasy strangled her.

Her orgasm was so vicious that she fought back. She would have unseated him if he didn’t muscle her down. He rode her through it, forcing her to take until she was a sobbing mess. Only then did he give in, gripping her hips, so she couldn’t get away as he slammed himself deep. He collapsed on top of her and groaned her name into her hair.

The moment was so powerful that she forgot herself and hugged him to her before the pins and needles in her arms reminded her how this began. She let her aching arms drop away and listened to the sound of the rain as she breathed in his scent—rain, sweat, cologne, and her. Roth could do things to her no one else could. He knew what would get her off, how far he could push her, and how to give her mind-blowing orgasms. If this was the extent of their relationship, the year with him wouldn’t be a punishment, it would be bliss. If just one of the men she’d been with could have done this for her, she would have kept him around. Why did she light up for James Roth and no one else?

Roth disengaged before his breathing evened out. The sudden cold banished the pleasant lethargy. As he straightened and adjusted his coat, she felt the splatter of raindrops on her upper thighs and stomach. He left the bedroom without a word, his long strides making his coat flare out behind him as he made his exit.

No, he wasn’t like her other men. Most of them, even the jerks, acted like they would call or see her again. Some even cuddled and made her breakfast in the morning. Not Roth. He didn’t even bother to act like he cared. He got his rocks off and went back to work.

With great effort, she heaved herself up so her ass wasn’t hanging off the edge of the mattress. Her shoulders burned, and her arms felt extremely heavy. She collapsed, arms spread on either side of her, and moaned.

“Here.”

She cracked one eye open and found Roth beside the bed with a glass of water. He lost the coat and had his dress shirt untucked from his pants. When she stared at him, he held out his hand.

“Aspirin.”

“I don’t need anything,” she mumbled.

He didn’t argue with her, but pulled her into a sitting position and placed the pills in her mouth. She gave him a baleful glare as he pressed the glass to her lips. She drank because she didn’t want it splashing down her front. When he was satisfied, he released her. She flopped back and closed her eyes. She was trying to figure out if she had the energy to climb under the covers when he started rearranging her on the bed.

“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped

“I’m going to give you a rubdown.”

“A what?” She struck out when he tugged on her arm. “Go away!”

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