Unforgettable: Book Three (A Hollywood Love Story #3)(21)

Finally, he pulls his scorching lips away and releases my right hand. “Oh baby, I want you so f*cking badly,” he breathes into my mouth. “More than anything.”

The words on my tongue waver between “Fuck you” and “Fuck me.” Taking a deep tormented breath, I do something I’ve never done before. I slap him hard across his face, leaving my handprint on his cheek and an echo in my ear. He rubs his stubble-lined jaw while I rub my stinging palm.

Tears scald the back of my eyes. “That’s all you’re getting from me. Whatever sick, cruel game you’re playing, Brandon, needs to end. I let you take everything. My heart. My soul. My body. My mind. But the one thing you’re not going to take is the last ounce of my dignity.”

“I’m sorry, Zoey. I couldn’t help myself.”

Neither could I.

“Zo, just give me a massage. That’s all. I need to feel your beautiful hands on me.” His voice is thick with desperation. And his eyes glint with despair. “I’ve already paid for your services.”

My heart clenches so tightly it hurts. “Oh, so, you think I’m some kind of whore?”

“Jeez, Zoey, no!”

“Go to hell!” I choke out the words. “I’m no longer at your command. You’re not my boss and I have the right to refuse anyone.”

“Oh, is that in your contract?” His tone sharpening, he makes air quotes around the word “contract.” With all my willpower, I hold my own.

“Either you leave or I leave.”

“Zoey, please.”

Please. Mama taught me to say that word. “Please, Brandon, I just want to forget you.”

“Zoey—”

“Brandon, PLEASE. I never want to see you again.” I’m a titanic mess, yet I so want my heart to go on.

Brandon’s jaw slackens in near defeat. I need to strike like a snake while I can.

“And just for your information, I have a real boyfriend now. Someone who’s normal…who treats me with kindness and respect.”

That sadistic satanic expression sweeps over him. His face darkens. “I’m happy for you, Zoey. But does he f*ck you the way I do?”

“He doesn’t f*ck with me the way you do.”

Silence. His nostrils flare.

“He loves me,” I lie.

Tears verging, I grab my bag. I’ve got to escape. The air is suffocating me. He’s suffocating me. Drowning me, pulling me under. I’ll just tell my supervisor I fell sick. It’s way closer to the truth than a lie.

“No, Zoey! Don’t go,” he growls, clutching my waist so tightly I yelp. I struggle to free myself like a wild animal captured by a poacher.

“Let me go!” I cry out, writhing and flailing, clawing and gnawing, batting him with my bag. We exchange savage sounds. And expletives. Overpowering me with his strength, he lifts me off my feet and flings me onto the massage table face up. I bolt to a sitting position, but he shoves me flat down on my back and then straddles me. His powerful knees hold me captive while he throws off his robe. Before it hits the floor, his large bruising hands grip my shoulders, holding me down. He leans into me, so close his breath heats my cheeks and I can taste him. His face is just inches away. His jet-black hair, longer and wilder, falls into his smoldering violet eyes. They’re filled with mad lust and desire. My blood pounds in my ears with each beat of my heart as I fight back my dire need for him to possess me.

“Give yourself to me, Zoey.”

“Fuck you, bastard.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re asking for it.”

I am. I want him to f*ck me so badly it hurts.

With an angry grunt, he forcefully spreads my legs and yanks down my pants, taking my panties with them. He grabs my soaked crotch and squeezes a fistful of *. His eyes hold me fierce. I’m a willing prisoner of his beauty, his supreme masculinity. I drink in his broad shoulders, sculpted pecs, rippled abs, muscled limbs, and the taut bronzed flesh aglow from the scrub that ties all the parts together. My hands want to touch him everywhere.

He squeezes my cleft harder, rolling his thumb around my throbbing nub. Moaning, I feel myself getting hotter, wetter with each powerful stroke. Pulsing electrical heat spirals through every ounce of my being until I’m burning with desire, every cell on fire. My mind fights for control, but my feverish body betrays me, craving him deep between my thighs.


“Oh, my beautiful Zoey, you’re so f*cking hot and wet for me. I have to have you.” His voice has grown demanding. The warmth of his breath against my flesh takes my breath away. My breathing grows shallow as he continues to arouse me.

“Tell me you want me as much I want you.”

His irresistible magnetic energy draws me to him, making it impossible to say no. Biting down on my lips to stifle a scream, I nod, wanting him as much as he wants me. Maybe more.

“Zoey, I need to hear words.”

“Oh, God!” It’s all I can manage.

“You’re mine. Do you hear me? You’re mine!” With his other hand, he fists the base of his enormous cock. A bead of pre-cum dots the crown like a shimmering pearl. His rock-hard monument to mankind is as beautiful as I remember. Magnificent. A vision of incomparable virile perfection.

“Say you want me,” he repeats, “and that you’re mine. Do it…please.”