Page 8 of The Forbidden Bride He Stole

“No,”Gigi and Pablo said at the same time.

“It’s true. She’s probably the only virgin in here.”

“Really?” Rocco pressed. And he looked... Interested. She tried to figure out how she felt about that. She wished she could feel something about that. Hewasattractive. In a more conventional way than Apollo, who was arresting more than he was beautiful. Tall and imposing.

Rocco was in his early twenties. Smooth and pretty, even. Age appropriate, even. Imagine that. No undue power over her life, even.

She was instantly uninterested.

There was something broken inside of her. She was convinced of it.

“Yes, I am,” she said. “Didn’t I tell you that he’s tyrannical?”

“The issue is that you don’t know how to give a BJ,” Pablo said.

She sniffed. “How hard could it be?”

Pablo lifted a brow. “It can be very hard, Hannah.”

She laughed, in spite of herself.

“You can practice on Rocco,” Gigi said, smiling.

Rocco lifted a brow. “I wouldn’t be opposed.”

It all felt a little bit dangerous. But this had been what she was after, right? Adulthood with no limits. Shecouldpractice on Rocco if she wanted to. She could do whatever she felt like.

“You should dance with me,” said Rocco.

“The way to my heart and a...a—” she couldn’t say it, so she cleared her throat imperiously “—is clearly not dance, Rocco, or I wouldn’t be a virgin.”

“No strings attached.”

“Okay.”

She took his hand, got up from the table, and let him lead her to the center of the dance floor. She wasn’t tipsy. She had only taken a few sips of her drink, and if anything, she had more of a sugar high than a buzz from the alcohol.

Then he pulled her close, and she noted that his body was hard. That he was thoroughly built, even though he had a lean look about him. And she still didn’t feel the stirrings of desire. Or anything close. It was blasted inconvenient.

And suddenly, a large masculine hand went to Rocco’s shoulder and pulled him away.

Hannah started and looked up. And saw Apollo standing there, looking furious.

“What did I tell you?”

Rage, shock, need, and a feeling of being very small all poured through her. He was here. For her, but not in the way she might have wanted. He was here to scold her like she was a child, and it made her want to weep, wail, and yell at him. And she also wanted to fling herself into his arms. She wanted to take that conversation she’d just had with her friends and make it real.

She wanted that as much as she wanted to run.

She let anger drive her forward, because of all the emotions it felt clearest. Safest.

“What did I tell you?” She took a step toward him. “You are not in charge of me.”

The anger she saw in his eyes was just as sharp as hers. It was exhilarating. Intoxicating. Making him respond.

But then he moved. “Let us see,” he growled.

He bent down and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

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