Page 41 of Stealing Cinder

He lifts me onto the counter. The marble bites ice-cold through the thin fabric of my skirt and the fishnet stockings. He forces himself between my thighs, his hips pressing my knees apart, and his presence swallows every inch of air surrounding me.

"You have a choice here."

I shove at his shoulders. Solid muscle absorbs the impact and he doesn't budge. "Do I?"

"Always."

"I call bullshit." My palms flatten against his bare chest, my right hand landing squarely over the inked letters of my name. His heart drums strong and steady beneath the black hole. He looms over me all taut muscle and looking like a gorgeous villain. It’s hard to be mad when he saved me from dying.

And then he takes my face in his hands and steals my breath. He palms the back of my head and takes my lips in a hard kiss. Hard enough to steal the end of my sentence and soft enough that my fingers curl against his chest instead of pushing.

I break away, my breath uneven. "I wanted to do this my way. I didn't want your help and yet…here we are." My jaw tightens. "And now that I’ve said that out loud, I hear how egotistical and arrogant that sounds."

His grunt of a laugh grates against my already frayed nerves.

"You looked like you could have handled him on your own." His thumb traces the curve of my jaw, tilting my face up. "But you will never have to bloody your hands while I'm alive."

He kisses the tip of my nose. Infuriatingly sweet for a man who just buried an ax in someone's skull.

"We have a few hours to wait. Join me in a hot shower." His voice lowers, the rough edges smoothing into a warmth that coils through my belly. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Let me care for you the way I've fantasized for months on end, Cinder. We can take it from there."

"Why do you care so much?" It’s a silly question given my baby bump, but my soul needs to hear all the soft words tonight.

He gathers the ends of my tangled hair between his fingers, working through a knot with a patience that contradicts every violent thing I've watched him do tonight. "I cared the second I saved you from losing your virginity to that asshole you were about to let touch you." The corner of his mouth pulls, wicked and warm. "Now come with daddy and let me take care of you."

My heart trips over itself and shudders in my chest.

What did he say? I reach behind him and loosen the tie holding his hair back. Dark locks fall free and I run my fingers through the softness of his hair.

My blues meet his browns. "Daddy, huh?" The word rolls over my tongue and every nerve ending south of my navel lights up. It's been five months, but the effect is the same. Warm. Electric. My thighs squeeze against his hips before I can stop myself. "Not happening."

The amount of tragedy that moves over his expression pushes me to test how far he will take this.

Arrogance tugs at the edges of his dark eyes and pins me where I sit. He's amused and irritated at the same time, the combination tightening the muscle in his jaw while his mouth threatens a grin.

And then his light expression turns wicked. "We'll see about that. Shower first, and then we can see how we spend the hours until sunup."

My entire body trembles in anticipation.

Sweet, delicious soul-consuming anticipation.

He lifts me off the marble counter and my bare feet never touch the floor. His borrowed shirt falls open as he carries me through the corridor. The peaks of my nipples press hard against the thin halter top, visible through the fabric, and his gaze drops to them with a hunger he doesn't bother hiding.

"I never thought I'd get to call you daddy again." The truth slips free because my body is already broadcasting it in bold print. My nipples ache, my skin is flushed, and every inch of me pressed against his bare chest is humming with a need to feel alive.

"Those pretty pink tips tell me you like it." He turns down a hallway I haven't been through. "I'll have you screaming for your daddy before the night is up, Cinder. That is a promise."

"You don't have brakes, do you? You just floor it through to the end. Screw stop signs and red lights."

"I'm seeing neither in this instance, so I don't see what waiting and pussyfooting around what I want will get me." He pushes through a door with his shoulder, carrying me into a master suite that matches the rest of the house. Dark. Cold. Sparse. A massive bed with heavy linens dominates the center, and floor-to-ceiling glass lines the far wall, the sleeping garden visible beyond. "Or you, for that matter."

The bathroom is glass on three sides. He sets me on the heated tile and turns the shower on. Steam erupts from the rainfall head, filling the enclosure fast, fogging the walls in seconds. He reaches for the shirt on my shoulders and peels it away, tossing the bloodied cotton aside.

His fingers find the hem of my halter top. He lifts it over my head in one slow pull. Cool air meets bare skin and my nipples tighten harder. His knuckles graze my ribs, my waist, the curve of my belly, as he hooks the fishnet stockings and the short skirt together and drags them down my legs. I step out of the pile and stand naked in front of him, five feet of pregnant, bruised, tangled-haired mess.

His eyes move over my body, slow and reverent. I can't make the softness I see in him now fit the same man who ended multiple lives tonight.

Yet here he stands, holding me like I truly am his princess.