Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(54)

“You say that like I’m being unreasonable!”

His voice hardens. “Squawk all you want, it’s done.”

I take a moment to enjoy a visual of him howling in pain as I bite off his nipple. A yawn distracts me from the impulse to disfigure him.

Liam kisses my forehead, wrapping his arms around my back. He starts to rub a gentle circle over my spine with his palm. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is this a new personality I’m talking to now?”

“I need to know your favorite gem stone, too.”

Gritting my teeth, I drum my fingers impatiently on his chest.

“And your ring size.”

Ring size? I feel all the blood drain out of my face. I’m frozen. I can’t even swallow.

A pleased chuckle rumbles through his chest. “That got her attention.”

After a moment, I say carefully, “I feel like I might have fallen through a hole into another dimension.”

He rolls me onto my back and settles his weight on top of me. His eyes blaze as he stares down at me, fiercely intense.

He growls, “I’m not going to force you to marry me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

My throat muscles relax enough for me to exhale a ragged breath. Until he says thoughtfully, “Though I could,” and they freeze right up again.

When a slow smile spreads over his face, I realize he’s teasing me.

Horrified, I breathe, “You…you…psychopath.”

He looks unimpressed. “I’ve been called worse.”

I shove at his chest. “Get off me.”

He sighs and mutters, “Here we go.”

“Get off—”

He silences me with a kiss.

I break away as soon as I can. Which isn’t soon enough, because I like the way he tastes just as much as the way he kisses, and what it does to my body when he kisses me.

I’m going to need so much therapy when this is through.

He says, “We’re going to sleep now. I’m a light sleeper, so forget about trying to sneak off.”

He rolls over, flips the covers off one side of the bed, and grabs me, pulling my arm so I tumble over his body. Lying on his back, he tucks me into his side and flips the covers back over us, then settles in with a satisfied sigh.

“Liam.”

“Aye, baby?”

“I still have my shoes on.”

“You’re the one who didn’t want to get undressed.”

“So you’re listening to what I want now? That’s a nice change of pace.”

My hair stirs, and I realize he’s silently laughing into it.

“Glad I amuse you.”

He whispers, “You have no idea.”

I stare in disbelief at the ceiling. This can’t really be happening. This can’t be my life.

“You can holler at me some more in the morning,” he says, sounding relaxed. “For now, just go to sleep.”

“It’s not like I have a choice.”

A tinge of warmth sneaks into his voice. “You might discover you enjoy having all your decisions made for you.”

“Sorry, but this isn’t the middle ages. Women have the right to vote now, did you hear?”

“I did. Terrible development, if you ask me. Everything has gone straight downhill since.”

He’s teasing me again. Who is this jolly new Liam, this smiling, joking version of my glowering, smoldering wolf? He can’t really be that happy that he kidnapped me and we’re going to be spending the next month together full-time…can he?

And if he is, how awful was his life before that it takes something like this to make him smile?

Don’t you dare start empathizing with him! He’s a mafia king! He’s a kidnapper! This isn’t the guy you feel sorry for!

I shout at myself mentally for a few minutes, until Liam nuzzles my ear, murmuring sleepily, “Go to sleep soon or I’ll think you’re waiting for me to rip off all your clothes and fuck you until you’re limp.”

Exasperated, I roll onto my side and bury my face in the pillow.

He follows me, throwing an arm and a leg over my body and pulling me close. He presses a kiss to the nape of my neck. After a few minutes when we remain unmoving, the lights dim, then fade to darkness.

I’m left alone with my racing thoughts as Liam holds me fast, even after he falls asleep.



I wake up sometime later with no idea where I am.

For a moment, my mind is blank. Lying on my side, I let my gaze drift around the unfamiliar room. It’s quiet and still. Light peeks all around the edges of heavy gray curtains along one wall, so I know it’s morning.

Then I hear slow, heavy breathing coming from behind me, feel the weight of a big male arm wrapped around my waist, and it all comes back in a rush.

I’m a captive.

I wait for the outrage and anger to kick in, but all I feel is a pale sort of irritation, quickly followed by the urge to turn over and burrow into all that delicious warmth heating my backside.

Apparently, Stockholm Syndrome sets in fast.

“Good morning.”

Liam’s voice is thick with sleep. He stretches his legs, inhales deeply against the back of my neck, then pulls me tighter against his body.