Page 40 of The Unplanned Wedding

I was holding myself back, but she's responded to my kink with enthusiasm. I will let myself have her in the way I want her. I want to push her onto her knees and shove my cock inside her mouth. I want to bend herover and spank her until she begs me for release. I want to defile her and take every orifice of hers. I want to bury myself in her until I find release.

The intensity of my need punches into my chest like a cannon ball. My heart expands in my ribcage. Worse, something in me insists I get to know her. To find out all about her. What she likes and hates. What makes her laugh. What she loves to eat and drink, and what she likes to do when she isn’t working for me, andwhat the hell?

Where is this compulsion arising from? Why do I want to get to know her as a person? I haven’t even fucked her!This…is new. This has never happened to me before. This…is something I cannot allow; it will only lead to my becoming vulnerable. Something I’ve sworn I’ll never let myself be. It’s why I’m going on the offensive. It’s why I'm going to push her even further. Will she do what I tell her this time? Or willthatensure she’ll want nothing to do with me.

I glare into her face. "Run."

Her gaze widens. Her pupils dilate. When I take a step in her direction, she trembles. Fear radiates off of her. It’s mixed with anticipation. Her breathing grows choppy. She sidles back.

The hunted.

The prey.

Myprey.

The thrill of chasing her. The excitement of toying with her. The delight in finally catching her and doing anything I want to her sets fire to my blood. My muscles bunch in expectation. This...is what makes me feel alive. When I am one with my primal instincts. When I don’t have to hide behind the mask I wear for the world. When I can unleash my inner beast. When I can chase my game.

I lower my chin to my chest and growl, “Run.”

My mind is an uncaged tiger, planning, anticipating where she’ll go.How's she going to try to escape me? Where will you go, little July? I’m going to be many steps ahead of you. You can’t out-run me, but you can try. And that will increase the buildup, the tension, the anticipation of how it will be when I catch you. And I am going to catch you. No way, can you escape.

My heartbeat quickens. My fingertips tingle.When you connect with your most primal self, you are also at your most vulnerable.I shove that thought aside,focusing on the expectation, the suspense, the exhilaration of the hunt building inside of me.

She must sense my fervor, for a whine bleeds from her lips, and that turns me on even more. I draw in a sharp breath, smell her arousal, and the animal inside of me breaks through all of my self-imposed barriers. That’s when something in her finally catches on. She turns and bolts toward the exit of the gym.

Satisfaction pinches my chest. The fact that she does what I ask is so damn gratifying. My pulse booms. Adrenaline crackles at my nerve-endings. Without letting myself think further, I give chase. I jump over the plate weight that tripped her up, then barrel out of the gym and race after her. She runs up the corridor and takes the staircase.Good. Very good. That will lengthen the chase.My gaze snags on how her butt bounces from side to side as she mounts the stairs,and goddam, sweat breaks out on my brow. I want to throw her down and mounther.I want to have her writhing and sobbing and begging under me as I bring her to the edge again and again. To see her tears, and feel her desperation, and sense her absolute need for release feeds the beast inside of me. I increase my speed, catch up with her as she nears the landing. I reach forward and swipe at her.

My fingertips graze her shoulder. She yelps and ups her speed, taking the steps two at a time. I let her pull away, allowing myself to give her an advantage. Feasting on how her plump thighs propel her forward. In fact, I slow down, walk up almost leisurely.You’re going to tire yourself out if you go on like this, little prey. And when I catch you, I’m going to get my hands on that sweet, delicious tush and?—

She reaches the next landing, then grabs the handle of the door below the fire-exit sign, twists it and plows through. The door shuts after her. The sound echoes around the space.What the—She’s surprised me again, the little vixen.

I charge up the stairs, pull the door open and hurtle forward. I spot her stabbing the button to call the elevator.

Got you!I’m barely winded, while her panting fills the space. She glances over her shoulder, spots me, and yelps. Then turns and jabs at the button repeatedly. The car arrives, and the doors open. I sprint toward her and careen to a stop as the elevator doors begin to close on her.

I plant my shoulder in the gap between the doors, and they springback. I step inside, and she gasps, then stumbles back until she hits the back of the carriage. The doors swish shut behind me. I reach over and slap the button for my penthouse, and it begins to rise.

She looks from me to the indicator flashing above my head, then back to my face. She glances around the space once before she wrings her hand together. I stay silent. So does she. The air between us thrums with tension. I drag my gaze down her features, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the parted lips, the way her eyelids flutter, how her eyes spark with a tinge of anger. Good. She’s a fighter. She needs to be to work with me.

She shuffles her feet, and when I stay silent, she tosses her head. "This is stupid. I didn’t do anything wrong. It was you who didn’t remember my name. I have corrected you so many times, but you always forget."

"Are you complaining?" I drawl.

"No. Yes." She throws up her hands. "Frankly, I don’t care. You can call me by any name you want, as long as you pay my salary on time—" She raises her shoulder. "I shouldn’t care," she says with vehemence, as if she’s trying to convince herself.

"So, it’s fine if I call you July?"

"The name’s June." She grimaces.

"You feel more like a July than a June," I drawl.

She scowls. "That’s terrible logic, you know that?"

It makes sense to me.She reminds me of that time of the year when the light is golden, and the sea is clear, and the pool is warm enough to dive in without wearing any clothes and feel the silky water slip over my skin in an erotic caress. Not that I’m going to tell her that. I continue to glare at her, and she looks away.

"You’re, uh, going to be late for your dinner meeting."

Nice segue, I’ll give her this one. "Doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to have to accept your punishment."

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