Sorcha opened her mouth, to try and say something, to reach him and he took advantage, driving his mouth down on hers, full of pent up aggression and anger. Hatred. Sorcha’s hand had come up to his to try and take it away and in her shock she left it there. His words were swirling in her head but all she could feel was him, wrapping his arms around her again, his tongue dancing erotically with hers. He was relentless, a master of her senses and she could do nothing but succumb, even as she felt a tear trickle out form under one eyelid and down her cheek.
After a long, long moment Romain pulled back with a jerky violent movement and looked down. He shook with reaction, to what he’d just revealed, to what he’d found on Sorcha’s person, and most of all to the way she was making him feel. To the way she held his body in her spell. He could see wetness on her cheek where a lone tear had left its mark and instead of inciting concern, he welcomed the hardness that settled in every bone. She was looking up at him with those big eyes. Lips trembling, plump from his kiss. And he would have her. Even though it went against every moral principle he’d held dear. Even though he’d hate himself. Because he couldn’t not.
‘You asked what I’m going to do Sorcha…well this is what I’m going to do. I’m going to take your delectable body when I’m good and ready. And I’m going to sate myself with you, burn myself free of this desire I feel.’
Sorcha swallowed painfully, her head and insides in absolute chaotic turmoil. ‘But…you mean you’re not going to send me home?’
He shook his head and a cruel smile touched his mouth. ‘No way. At this stage that would cost me money…’ he trailed a finger down her cheek and around her jaw. ‘And cost me my sanity. You’re going to finish the job…as my mistress…’