Sweet Temptation (Sweet #4)(18)

Her body shook with the force of his thrusts, and he grasped her hips, pulling her back to meet each one.

Too soon, only seconds, his release raced with the fury of a firestorm, through his balls, up his cock. He closed his eyes and bit back the cry of triumph as he spurted deep inside her body.

Never had anything felt so primitive, so right, so absolutely satisfying.

His legs trembled and threatened to buckle. He leaned into her body, gasping for breath. Slowly he regained awareness. Her warm, sweet body quivered below his, her pu**y softly contracting around his still-hard cock.

Oh God. Oh God. What had he done?

He’d abused her, taken her. He’d come inside her, for God’s sake. No condom. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’d raped her.

His hands shaking uncontrollably, he grasped her hips and carefully pulled out, wincing at the warm rush of se**n that seeped from her swollen pu**y.

“Oh God. Angel,” he whispered. “Angel girl. Baby girl, I’m sorry. Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

He yanked at the ropes binding her hands and then gently picked her up from the couch so he could unwind the rest of the rope.

He couldn‘t—wouldn’t—meet her eyes. He was too afraid of what he’d see. He’d used her. He’d hurt her. He wanted to die.

When the last of the rope fell away, he hastily arranged his pants and then pulled her into his arms. Her heart beat against his body like a little baby bird trying to fly for the first time. Erratic. A little frantic.

He smoothed a hand over her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m so sorry, Angel girl. I never meant to hurt you. I’m so damn sorry. Are you all right? Did I ...” He swallowed hard. “Did I do any damage? Jesus, I didn’t even use a condom. Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

No words had ever hurt him more, but he owed it to her not to shy away from what he’d done. He deserved to have his ass kicked and thrown in jail.

Angelina stirred in his arms and pulled away so she could look up at him. What he saw shattered him. Trust. Still shining in her soft eyes. His gut twisted into a huge knot that threatened to suffocate him.

“You didn’t hurt me,” she said gently. “I’ve never orgasmed so hard in my life.”

She’d come? It shamed him to admit that he hadn’t given a moment’s thought to her pleasure or care. He’d been a mindless f**king machine only intent on gaining relief from his torment.

She reached up to touch his face, her fingers trailing over his cheekbone until finally she cupped his jaw.

“You only did what I asked you to do, Micah. How is that wrong?”

“You’re too sweet, too generous and too damned naive,” he growled. “Where are your clothes?”

She pointed to a chair a few feet away where her jeans, underwear, shirt and shoes were. He stalked over and then returned with everything.

As gently and as patiently as he knew how, he dressed her, taking care not to abrade the bruised parts of her body. Every time he saw a fingerprint, or the red area where the ropes had dug into her skin, he felt sick.

Finally he handed her the shoes, and she slipped them on.

“Let’s go home, Angel. You need someone to take care of you tonight.”

She smiled faintly. “I love the way that sounds coming from you.”

CHAPTER 9

Angelina barely had time to park her car before Micah opened her door and urged her out. To her utter shock, he swept her up into his arms and started carrying her toward the door to his apartment.

“Micah, I can walk,” she said with a laugh.

He ignored her and kept walking. Not really wanting to argue the point, because she was in his arms after all, she sighed and snuggled into his chest.

Exhaustion beat at her temples, and her limbs felt heavy and laden. She wanted to sleep for about twelve hours, preferably in Micah’s arms, but she wasn’t fooling herself over that possibility.

He was horrified over what happened. The guilt in his eyes made her gut clench. For a guy who prided himself on his iron control, what had happened wasn’t just a presumed betrayal of her but also of himself.

She couldn’t feel bad, though. She’d never reach him as long as that control was in place. And she still shivered over the raw power he exhibited when he’d taken her.

Taken her. It seemed so tame a term to describe it. He’d owned her. Possessed her. She’d been completely and utterly his, his possession to do what he wanted with.

Desire and lust simmered and burned low in her abdomen despite her thinking she couldn’t possibly be aroused again.

She’d loved his touch. His power. The way he hadn’t asked. He’d simply taken what he deemed his.

She shivered again as he elbowed his way into the apartment.

“Are you cold?” he asked in concern.

She shook her head. “No, just remembering.”

He stiffened, and the tortured look returned to his face. She started to correct his assumption that it was a bad remembrance for her, but he set her down on the couch and immediately went about removing her shoes.

“I’m going to go start a hot shower for you,” he said in a low voice. “It’ll make you feel better. Take your time. Are you hungry? Do you want me to fix you something to eat?”

She smiled. “The shower sounds heavenly, and no, I’m not hungry.”