Saint (A Dark Mafia Romance)(13)

My fist is grabbing the lamp on the side table, and before I even know what I’m doing, I’m whirling and throwing it right at him. He roars as it smashes into his chest, the fire blazing in his eyes.

I scream when he catches up to me, his strong arms yanking me tight as we go slamming into the wall, his body against mine.

“Let go of me!”

I scream again, struggling and feeling those powerful, thick muscled arms pull me tight against his corded chest. I can feel his breath hot on my neck, teasing against my hair, and I struggle and squirm, but he only pulls me tighter to him. His growls rumble through my ears.

And I shiver.

I immediately and completely hate myself for it.

I hate that my body responds to the roughness. I hate that it’s somehow blocking out the fact that this is my captor, and instead concentrating on the masculine growls in my ear sending shivers down my back - the feel of strong, powerful arms holding my much smaller body to his hardened muscles.

I hate it, but it ignites something in me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, shoving away the momentary insanity and the momentary flash of heat through my body as he holds me. His hands hold me tight, and I’m panting - blood pounding in my ears. I shiver as I feel his hard body pressing me to the wall, his hips, and something firm pressing against my ass.

And my body betrays me.

“Bad girl,” he growls into my ear.

I whimper.

“You think I don’t know a girl like you a mile away?” he husks, making my heart jump in my throat as his lips brush my ear. “Trust me, princess, I know exactly who you are. I know you’re the good girl that gets off thinking she’s bad. You think hanging around the bad boys in places like that fucking bar is sexy and dangerous?”

I whimper again as his hand tightens on the back of my neck, and I don’t know if he’s hard or just pressed so tight against me that I can feel it, but his cock is right against the cleft of my ass.

And my traitorous body comes alive, pulsing with raw fire and arching against him despite everything I think I don’t want.

“Sweetheart,” he growls. “I’m no bad boy. I’m just a very dangerous man.”

I pant, feeling his lips tease against the nape of my neck. His hand slips into my hair, and I gasp sharply as I feel him pull it tight.

“You don’t know a thing about me,” I hiss.

“I know this gets you hot.”

“It does not,” I barely whisper, my whole damned traitorous, mutinous body pulsing for him - aching to feel the raw fire I felt when he yanked me against him and kissed me like that, back at the bar.

“That a fact?”

I swallow as his words drip like honey into my ears, not daring to say a thing.

He spins me around, making me gasp as we come eye to eye, and I moan as he presses into me, his thigh going between mine as he pins me to the wall.

“Princess, we both know why you were at that place tonight.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss, twisting in his firm grasp “You don’t-”

“Looking for something dangerous? Looking for something bad so you could pretend you weren’t such a goody-good girl for one night?”

My lips purse, the fire raging behind my eyes.

And I hate how right he is, in a way.

“Sweetheart, girls like you are a dime a dozen in a shitty Southie dive bars like that. You went there tonight looking for something big bad and scary enough to make that uptight, prudish, good-girl pussy dripping wet.”

My eyes go wide as saucers, my breath actually catching at his filthy words.

“Just like I’m sure it is right now, for me.”

The blood roars through my ears, and I freaking whimper at his words. At his words, and the tattoos, and the scars, and the way he’s such a man. I whimper at how rough, and dangerous, and disturbingly gorgeous he is.

I whimper at how fucking right he might be.

…Especially about that last part.

“You’re disgusting,” I spit back.

“And you love that I am.”

His powerful hand slips over my hip, and I shiver as I feel his fingers trace over the bare skin between the bottom of my shirt and the top of my skirt. His hand hesitates there, his powerful grip tightening slightly and making my body tremble.

And I hate how wet I am.

It’s mutiny is what it is. It’s my traitorous body saying yes while my head is saying no. I want him to stop, but I’m dying for him to keep going. I want him to let me go, and I never want his filthy hands to leave my skin.

His hand slips over my skin, and the room sways as I close my eyes, melting under his rough touch.

Suddenly, his hand freezes, his muscles tense, and I open my eyes.

I shriek as he suddenly yanks me up, throws me over his muscled shoulder, and starts to march across the room. I gasp as I realize we’re going straight for his bed, and suddenly, everything about how wrong this is comes roaring to the surface. Through my adrenaline, and the booze, and the insanity of this night, I somehow push away the dark stranger fantasy - I push away the man I kissed like a crazy person and concentrate instead on the dangerous guy who’s abducted me and brought me here against my will.