Page 27 of The Night Runs Red

“W-What?”

“You heard me, love. Why do you think I do not care?” Each word was heavily emphasized, dragging them out to prove his point.

“Because you don’t.” I looked away, unable to bear the heavy weight of his scrutinizing gaze.

His hand shot out and gripped my chin, pulling me back toward him. We were inches apart, our breaths mingling in a way that made me dizzy. Because everything about this man was intoxicating, and I wanted to drown in him.

“Do not presume to know my thoughts.”

I tore myself from his hold and pushed him away. “I don’t need to presume anything, husband. Your actions are what prove your thoughts. You took a fucking phone call from another woman while you were having a conversation with me.”

He dared to laugh, causing my temper to flare. I pointed at the door, trying to smother the rage clawing to get out. “Get out, Rion.”

He stepped closer, his face darkening. “No.”

I stormed forward and pushed again, but he didn’t budge. He was unmovable, a statue of perfection whose purpose was to show me everything I could never have. “Get Out.”

Rion leaned forward, brushing my nose with his own. “Do I make you angry, wife?”

Again, I pushed at his chest. “You infuriate me, husband.”

“Good. Then you know but a fraction of what you do to me.”

And then he kissed me. Hard.

It was bruising and passionate and burning—all the things our first kiss had been, only intensified by both our tempers. We tangled for dominance. My hands weaved through his hair as his traveled low to grip my ass. He groaned against my lips as I tightened my hold, picking me up and setting me on the sturdy dresser behind me.

He ground his erection against the apex of my things. I cried out, remembering the only thing separating our bodies were his clothes and my robe. I hadn’t put on panties. Oh gods, he could slip in if he wanted to. It’d be so easy.

As if Rion could read my mind, he slid a hand between us, quickly finding how much my body wanted him. “Your anger is doing wicked things to this sweet pussy, Calia. You cannot deny it, can you?”

His mouth slid down my neck, biting and sucking as my groan of frustration turned to one of passion. Everything he did, everywhere he touched, set my skin aflame. I needed him, even though I’d regret it once we were done.

Rion pulled back and gripped my throat with his hand, squeezing. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

Dark eyes turned to molten silver as he lunged forward, capturing my mouth again. I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, ripping them apart when they refused to cooperate. As my hands touched his skin, he let out a sharp inhale. I’d landed on his scar. The raised lines were soft compared to the rest of his hard body, allowing me to feel its expanse.

“How did it happen?” I whispered, tracing the mark.

“I don’t want to talk about it, love. In fact, I don’t want to talk at all. I only want to hear the little sounds you make when you come.” Suddenly, he dropped to his knees before me, gripping my thighs tightly as he pulled them apart. Embarrassment pushed through the lust, and I fought against his hold. His silver gaze met mine. “Why are you trying to hide from me?”

He sat back on his heels, raising his eyebrow when an answer didn’t come. If I was honest, there were many reasons for my hiding. Stretch marks and cellulite marred my skin, something I’d fought against since childhood. My hips were wide and my thighs constantly rubbed together when I walked. There was no makeup on my face, highlighting the red tone it always pulled without concealer. I braced myself for the rejection that would surely come once he saw what I did every time I looked in the mirror—how the mile long list of imperfections would void any value I could offer a lover.

The women he’d been with were beautiful—perfect—while the list of my flaws would run a mile long.

Realization flashed in his eyes before he gripped me tighter and yanked my legs back open. “I should kill every person who made you feel as if you were not enough.”

Before I could respond, his tongue lapped at my slick entrance. I gripped his hair tightly in my fists as he pulled me closer to him, burying his face between my thighs. Every move he made felt reverent, his fingers wrapped around me tight as though I was the only thing holding him down.

My head fell back, and I moaned, moving my hips in encouragement. Each horrible thought fell away from my mind, leaving me grounded in this moment with him as one of his hands came around and played with my clit.

I looked down my body, met with his striking eyes as he watched my pleasure peak into an earth-shattering orgasm. He was frozen, as though he didn’t want to miss a single moment of the way he wrecked me.

Rion sat up and captured my mouth in a searing kiss. I tasted myself on his tongue, surprised at how it only made me crave him more. My fingers flew to his pants, tearing at the zipper where his cock was hard and waiting.

“Fuck, Calia,” he hissed as I gripped him in my hand. For just a moment, I felt powerful. It was stupid; I’d been with lovers in the past, but never one like Rion. There was something euphoric about bringing such a powerful man to his knees for my pleasure and the sounds he made at my touch.

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