Read Wicked Pleasures for Free Online Page B

his fingers along
her cheek and bottom lip. “I smell your scent and it’s a hypnotic
drive, pulling me in.”
    “Mark my words. We will never have sex. Are you that
crazy to believe I’d sleep with a man who has not only kidnapped
me, but has the likeability of a tyrant?”
    His charming smile was back. How could he turn on
and off his expressions like a faucet? He took a step back. “In
good time, my dear. You’ll be begging me to put out the flame in
your loins. Imagine what we could do in that tub in the bathroom.”
His gaze seemed to smooth across her skin. “We’d both find great
satisfaction in coupling.”
    Bronte knew her cheeks were red because the searing
heat burned her. “Keep dreaming.” Her voice shuddered.
    “No, Bronte, you keep dreaming. Your
fantasies bring me much pleasure.”
    “Good. When you’re behind bars I hope these
fantasies you speak of keep you warm.” She jerked her hand and he
let it go. “I don’t need you examining my wound.”
    “Since you choose not to take care of yourself, I’m
obligated. Just as I’d figured, you’d overlook the importance of
keeping your stitches clean. Go to the den,” he ordered.
    Bile rose in her throat. “Basic manners 101. Say
please and thank you.”
    His mouth thinned. “So you expect me to say please
before I take care of you? You should say thank you that I properly
took care of your wound.”
    Balling her hands into fists at her sides, she
counted to ten, but it didn’t release any of her irritation. “I
didn’t ask for your help. Just like I didn’t ask to be kidnapped
and brought here. It’s your fault that I was hurt in the first
place. The only thank you you’re going to get is if you drop dead.”
Her heart slammed against her chest and she wanted to hog-tie him.
She’d never been so infuriated in her life to wish someone dead. He
didn’t even seem troubled.
    “Fine!” He grabbed her up like a sack of potatoes
and threw her over his shoulder, holding her securely at her
thighs. She kicked her feet and used her balled fists to pound his
back. “Let me down, you jackass.” Her hands started to ache from
punching him. “You insufferable, pain in the ass, miserable
ogre!”
    “Settle down before you hurt yourself.” As they were
moving through the hall, each step he took, her head bounced
against his tight ass, like a stick beating a drum. “Don’t act like
a spoiled brat.”
    “Me? A spoiled brat!” Before she could debate the
repercussions of her next action, she chomped down onto his right
butt cheek. When he didn’t respond, she pressed her teeth deeper
through the material of his jeans, realizing his backside was
tighter than she’d first thought. He jerked her upward and her
clamp broke.
    “Sweetheart, that area of my body only responds to
slaps, caresses and kisses. Anything else only pisses me off.” He
threw her down, thankfully onto the soft cushions of the couch in
the den.
    Bronte looked up at him. The corners of his eyes
crinkled and she could have sworn his pupils turned red. His jaw
was tight and set at a daunting angle. Lifting her leg, she kicked
him hard in the gut and he bent over clutching his stomach. She
spared no time in jumping up, ready to run, but he recovered and
grabbed her waist, knocking her down onto the floor. She wasn’t
finished yet and whatever demon she had inside boiled to the
surface.
    Rolling away from his grip, she brought her fist up
and connected a good punch to his eye. It barely fazed him, only
long enough for her to bring her foot hard into his knee. Any
chance of getting away faded. The couch blocked her on one side and
his massive body was in her path on the other. She was doomed. And
caged like an animal.
    “Enough!” he roared. He took her by the elbow, laid
her on top of the couch and pinned her against the cushions.
    Bronte attempted to move her legs and arms but she
was stuck. She was breathing so rapidly that her lungs ached. “Get
off, you bastard!”
    His