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If his hand wasn’t on her chin, her mouth would have dropped open. Did he think she developed amnesia since he dumped her here?
He pressed a kiss, as light as a butterfly’s wing, on the apple of her cheek. She jerked back, unconsciously raising her fist, which he grabbed before she could do any damage.
“You plan to stab me, Jasmine?” he asked as his lips brushed the shell of her ear.
“Do I need to?” she whispered.
“No.”
He took the pen and tossed it over his shoulder as the hand on her chin slid to her nape. His blank expression should have chilled her, but the hunger in his eyes thickened her blood. His gentle caress was such a far cry from what she had expected that she didn’t know how to react. He didn’t take her mouth, though his eyes were fixed on it. He ran the back of his knuckles along her throat. What the hell was happening? She expected him to pillage and terrorize, not coax. As close as he was, it was impossible for her to miss his scent—fresh, spicy, alluring.
Her breath caught as his hand closed over her breast. She gripped his wrist with both hands and yanked, but she was no match for him.
“Roth.” Her voice was strained as he kneaded.
“Kiss me.”
His black gaze was trained on her face, cataloging everything she wanted to hide. Her fear was morphing into something else. What did that say about her that even after everything she had experienced at his hands, her body was responding to him? He marched in, no hesitation, and picked up right where he left off, as if nothing had happened.
“Your mouth, Jasmine.”
She opened her mouth to tell him to fuck off, but he squeezed her nipple, releasing a burst of heat that chased away the last of her fear. He moved in closer. With the sun shining on his face, she found herself searching for something. Maybe a spark of remorse or a glimpse of the man she had fallen in love with, but she could see nothing but his ruthless veneer. She was sure he could feel her heart thudding against her ribs. He dipped his head, his lips mere inches from hers.
“Jasmine.”
There was a demand in his voice, a yearning that made her fingernails sink into her palm. She could feel his impatience rising. She knew what he wanted, but she didn’t want to give it to him. To distract them both, she raised her hand. He tensed, but his grip on her boob eased when she touched the harsh grooves of his face. He ducked his head, giving her unlimited access as she ran her fingers through his beard and traced the hard line of his lips. His features should be familiar to her, but with all that had been revealed, she felt as if she was looking at a stranger. They had always been lovers, but they never spoke in the aftermath like partners. It was always a mad dash to the finish, and then it was all over. This tactile exploration seemed more intimate than what they did between the sheets.
Ambivalent emotions tore up her insides. Did he sense the questions she couldn’t voice in her tentative touch? Did he do all of this in the name of revenge? Was she just a pawn to him? A way to get to her family and all of their connections or did she inherit another asset he coveted? What was he hiding? What were his intentions?
All the social training she received to interact with world leaders, politicians, and businessmen—nothing prepared her for him. How could it be that this was the second time she had married him and she knew less than she had the first time? Was he lulling her into a false sense of security so he could pull the rug out from under her? How was she going to survive this?
Her voice trembled as she whispered, “Roth.”
He must have understood the hidden plea in her tone because his eyes narrowed. “No.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t.”
“You can.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I can’t help myself.”
He tugged her to the edge of the window seat. She made a grab for her notebook that tumbled to the floor, but was distracted by him forcing her legs apart to accommodate him.
“Kiss me.”
“Why?”
“It’s been three fucking days.”
“That’s your fault,” she sassed.
The hand on her nape tightened. “Fucking kiss me, princess.”
She didn’t understand why he insisted she give him a kiss, but she sensed his temper was stretched to the breaking point. She didn’t want to see what would happen if she pushed him over the edge. He was so close, all she had to do was tilt her head back. Her full lips pressed against the straight seam of his. She paused for a beat before she began to draw away. The hand on her nape moved to her hair and yanked. Her lips parted in surprise at the streak of pain, giving him the opening he needed to sink his tongue into her mouth. He tainted the clean taste of peppermint with something bitter and tart. Coffee and something else. He kissed her with an absorption that made her lightheaded. As he ravaged, her body primed itself for him. She pressed her hand against his stomach in a bid for space. His response was to pull her sweater over her head.
“Hey!”
