Page 11 of His Temptation

“No,” she hissed, arching hard to break free.

His grip tightened. One powerful hand wrapped around her wrist, the other pressed against her hip, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.

She hated how easily he handled her.

How controlled he was.

How he didn’t even look like he was trying.

His breath brushed her ear, his voice edged with amusement. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Her pulse kicked, but she refused to let him see it. She yanked at his grip, using every ounce of her strength—but it didn’t matter.

Daragh was stronger, and the worst part was that he knew it.

His fingers flexed, his hold shifting just enough to make her hyper-aware of the heat of his body, the solid muscle beneath the expensive fabric of his jacket.

Siobhan stilled, chest rising and falling too fast, her mind calculating. Waiting. Watching.

Daragh let the silence hang between them, his blue eyes sharp as a blade.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“You’re not going anywhere, kitten.”

Siobhan ground her teeth, fury spiking hot and electric in her veins.

This wasn’t over—not by any stretch of the imagination.

CHAPTER 4

DARAGH

Daragh had fought killers. He’d fought trained mercenaries, cartel hitmen, men with nothing left to lose. But none of them fought like Siobhan Harrington.

The second he had her pinned, she exploded, twisting like a wild thing, using the unpredictability of instinct over form, ferocity over precision. She wasn’t trying to get away—she was trying to take him down, and she almost succeeded.

Her knee shot up—fast, vicious, aimed for his balls. He blocked it with a twist of his hip, but she used the deflection to push off the wall, her leg hooking around his in an attempt to bring him down with her.

Clever. Damn clever.

Daragh countered with brute force, wrenching her leg free and shoving her back against the brick, using his weight to keep her still, planting himself so that she straddled him with her legs.

“I was planning to get between your legs, kitten, but I had something far more intimate in mind.”

She growled. He chuckled.

She didn’t stop. Her nails raked against his forearm as she tried to pry herself loose, her breathing sharp, her body nothing but pure, desperate energy.

Daragh let out a low, guttural sound of approval. She was fast. Brutal. And she fought like someone who didn’t expect to lose.

“Keep going, kitten,” he taunted, his grip tightening when she tried to twist out of his hold. “I’ve got all night.”

Siobhan let out a snarl of frustration, using her knee again, this time aiming for the one place that would put him down permanently, but he had expected that. Daragh barely dodged in time, turning so the blow glanced off his thigh instead of crushing something vital.

His patience snapped. Before she could launch another strike, he used his greater size and sheer strength, capturing both of her wrists in one hand and slamming them above her head against the warehouse wall.

She gasped, her eyes going wide, but there was no fear—only fury. But there was something else—something hot, electric, and completely unexpected. Daragh felt it the moment her body pressed against his.

---