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growled statement made her skin tingle. Her nipples pinched harder, straining against the material of her bra and t-shirt. How could she not come to him? When he made her feel so… so…
    Wanted?
    Was that it? Was that the attraction? The desperate longings of a lonely child of affluent parents who didn’t know how to stop working? Who sent her to boarding school the moment she could spell her name?
    Or was it more?
    Dangerous.
    Love.
    His hand left her breast, fingers tickling the lines of her ribcage as he explored a line down to her waist. With an ease both disturbing and thrilling he slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt, pressing his palm to her bare skin.
    She gasped and arced her spine, pressing her arse harder to his rigid shaft.
    “Is this why you disobeyed me? To have me touch you?”
     She didn’t answer.
    He skimmed his hand up the curve of her ribcage, capturing her breast once again. Her nipples puckered into painful tips of want, rubbing against the material of her bra, pushing his palm with an urgency that sent hot ribbons of shame and hunger into her being.
    “This isn’t a game, Katrina.” The growl in her ear made her shiver. “If you’re here to be fucked, tell me.”
    “I’m here to be fucked.”
    The hands on her body grew brutal and she whimpered again, eyelids fluttering close, pussy pooling with wet rapture.
    “By who?”
    Her sex constricted. Her knickers grew damp. Anger flared in her chest. Anger at herself. At him. “By you, Flynn. Only you.”
    Without warning, he curled his fingers around the edge of her bra and ripped it aside, claiming her breast with a force that made her cry out. “Tell me again.” He pinched her nipple, rolling the nub of flesh between thumb and finger even as he tightened his grip on her wrists. “Tell me what you want me to do to you. I want to hear it from your lips.”
    She bucked against him, molten lust pouring into her sex. His strength overwhelmed her, stole her breath.
    Just a lonely rich girl longing for danger …
    She still remembered his almost inaudible words after the first time they’d kissed, uttered with deep rancour. Who he was bitter with she didn’t know, but she couldn’t stay away. And he didn’t want her to. She could tell. In the gentle way he brushed the hair from her face after he’d taken her on the bed, against the wall. In the softness in his eyes as he studied her, post-coitus, his fingers trailing over her body in a delicate exploration, as if he’d never seen something so precious. He was an enigma, a contradiction she wanted to solve. An addiction she didn’t want to do without.
    God, did she love him?
    Arrogant fingers flicked her nipple and the thought vanished, replaced by a wave of wild heat that poured into her very core. She writhed against him and he bit her neck, his teeth and tongue torturing her skin. She cried out, bucking in his hold. The action drove his cock harder to her arse, its insistent length setting her blood on fire.
    Teeth nipped at her earlobe, sending shards of exquisite pain through her body. “Tell me.”
    “I want you to touch me. To fuck me.”
    The hand on her wrist tugged, bowing her backward, thrusting her breasts forward. “How?”
    She sucked in a ragged breath, pulse pounding. “Hard.”
    He squeezed her breast, his knuckles razing her aching, eager nipple. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Kat. Don’t play with me like I’m a—”
    … toy .
    The disembodied word floated through Katrina’s sleep-clouded brain like a ghostly whisper. She opened her eyes, staring about herself, completely confused.
    Where was she?
    A massive painting of a wild cat, a lynx, stared down at her from the wall above her head and it came back to her in a rush. Los Magia. Abaddon. The Mouse.
    And another memory …
    Dragging her hands through her hair, she dropped her head. When had she fallen asleep? Hell, when had she even sat on the bed.
    When you discovered the cat’s collar .
    She