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I wonder how long he’s been sitting there, witnessing me screaming and withering in my sleep.
“What do you want?” I mutter, tugging the covers up to my chin.
“For you to eat,” he replies, his eyes fixed on my sweating face.
“No, and you can’t make me.”
Lorcan Quinn takes his time responding. Powerful men seem to have the luxury of time. He turns to the window, closing his eyes and tilting his face up to meet the early morning rays. As they wash over his tanned face, I can’t help but think how handsome he is. This man could have been anything, anyone. A model, an actor, or with that enormous build, even a sportsman. Instead, he chose to be an asshole with a god complex.
Eventually, he turns his attention back to me. “I can, and I will,” he says simply. “Not so long ago, you woke up in this beautiful room with no recollection of how you got here. I can make it happen again, only next time, you’ll wake up in the hospital with a feeding tube forced down your throat.”
I know the threat is all too real, but I refuse to give anything away. Instead, I pick at the embroidered hem of the covers, feeling his heavy gaze burning into the side of my cheek.
“Miss Murphy—”
“I’m not Miss Murphy anymore,” I snap. “My last name is Valentina. Murphy is my father and I’m nothing like him.”
He studies me for a moment, before taking the three strides to sit at the end of the bed. I curl my legs up to my chest, trying to get as far away from him as possible. Up close, I can see the cut on his cheek and I’m disappointed. There was so much blood, I was hoping it’d be bigger.
“You might look nothing like him, but you’ll always be a Murphy in blood,” he growls.
There’s so much anger in his eyes.Why? My father was nothing but a lackey to his family, and he was only one tiny piece of the puzzle in the death of his father and brothers.
How can he hate him that much?
Before I can work up the courage to ask, he reaches over and runs the rough pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “Such a pretty little mouth,” he murmurs, that amused smirk softening his cruel face. “Such a delight that it belongs to me now.”
I whip my face away from him, pushing my back against the headboard. “Get off me,” I hiss, my lip still burning from the ghost of his touch.
“Have you ever sucked a cock before, Miss Murphy?”
Heat rises to my face, betraying my stern expression. “None of your goddamn business.”
He laughs, a hard, gruff laugh. “A pretty little mouth but filled with poison. I’d like to fill it with something else.”
Lightning quick, his hands fly to my cheeks, locking me in with a vice-like grip. “Remember, that mouth belongs to me now,” he murmurs. He’s so close, I can feel his coffee breath tickling my nose.
My breath hitches in my throat. I want to look away, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of cowering. Instead, I meet his powerful citrine gaze. It’s filled with lust and longing.
I wish I could say I felt sickened by him. But my body betrays me, the heat rushing away from my face and to the pit of my stomach and beyond.
Goddamnit, Poppy. What the fuck is wrong with you?
After what feels like forever, he unpins me from his gaze, turning his attention to below my collarbone. His eyes run over my new silk pajamas, courtesy of Orna, and stop on the swell of my chest.
I know what he’s looking at. I can feel it happening.
The smirk is now splitting his face in two, revealing a row of pearly teeth. He releases my face from his grip and runs a surprisingly gentle finger over my nipple. It stiffens even more under his touch, and I have to force myself not to gasp.
Push him away, Poppy,a voice somewhere in my head screams,push him away and kick him in the balls, while you’re at it.
But I don’t push him away. Not even when he undoes the top button of my shirt. Or the second.
The voice in my head is getting louder, angrier. But his touch has me stupefied, pinned to the headboard.
His hands are demanding as he pulls my shirt apart, allowing my heavy breasts to escape.
I can’t take my eyes off of him. The way he stares at my heaving chest with pure, unadulterated fascination and lust. The heat of his hands makes my skin prickle with goosebumps as he hovers them over the swell of my chest. I find myself closing my eyes, waiting for his touch.
