Page 49 of Strange Seduction (Strange #2)
He stepped closer. His breath shuddered, nostrils flaring.
“I am your partner. You have no idea what it’s like to love somebody the way I love you.
It’s not rational. It’s not—” He stopped himself and raked his hands through his hair.
“It’s not gentle. I’m losing my mind over you.
I spent years without you, and it gutted me.
I finally got you back in my arms, and you’re already halfway out the door. ”
“You’re pushing me there.”
His mouth crashed down on mine before I could say another word.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tender. It was desperate and angry and so full of pain I tasted it on his tongue. His hands fisted in my hair, and my fingers dug into his chest as I kissed him back. He pulled back just long enough to press his forehead to mine. His thumb stroked my cheek.
“I hate when we do this,” he breathed into my mouth. “But I’d rather fight with you for the rest of my life than go one more goddamn day without you.”
He kissed me again, slower this time. But no less intense. I whimpered into his kiss, tugging at his shirt. That made him lift me off my feet with ease and pressed me into the wall, trying to sink into me.
And I didn’t stop him. I didn’t even stop him when the kissing became feverish.
He carried me down the hall, his grip firm beneath my thighs, his mouth never leaving mine. He crashed through the bedroom door, too wrapped up in me to bother being gentle.
Aggressively, he dropped me on the bed and stood over me.
“I’m not letting you go,” he said for what felt like the millionth time.
I stared up at him, breathing hard. “You can’t stop me.”
That was all it took. His jaw clenched. “Watch me.”
He came down over me in a blur, hands dragging my clothes off with a ferocity that made my spine arch.
I pulled at his shirt, needing skin, needing warmth, needing him close enough to crawl inside.
His mouth blazed a trail down my throat, across my collarbone, like he had to memorize every inch of me before I disappeared.
There were no slow, soft promises this time. No breathless “ I love you” whispered in the dark.
He dug his teeth into the inner side of my breast, and I responded with a slap across his face. He took a moment to process what I had done before getting in my face, wrapping his hand around my throat, and squeezing.
I did the same.
“You’re staying.” He commanded.
“Make. Me.” I challenged.
Without hesitation, he jammed his free hand between my thighs and prided it open. I struggled a bit before I ultimately gave in. His one hand was more powerful than my untrained thighs.
With swift force, he pulled my panties to the side and lined himself up. He didn’t ask if I was ready before he took me. The act was not like anything we had done before. It felt like a fight. Aggressively hair pulling, scratching down our backs and chest, biting with force not suited for pleasure.
We were angry.
We were so fucking angry.
Our eyes met in frustration and unchecked temper that we both hid behind passive grunts.
The things we said to each other would make the people we were just hours ago furious. It was like he said. We were not ourselves. I barely recognize us. Something new had taken over, leaving chaos in its wake.
And teeth.
Just teeth grazing skin, his hand wrapped around my thigh, and my fingers digging into his back. I wasn’t even sure where I ended and he began anymore. We moved together like the argument was still happening in our bodies—every thrust was a challenge, every moan a retort.
And beneath it all, the fear.
The fear that this was just one more night before we broke for good.
He kissed me like that, too.
Like he didn’t know if there’d be another.
“You should’ve…just…listened…to me.” He forced out with every stroke.
“Why?” I fought back a moan as he, annoyingly, still managed to hit the right spot. “All you do is lie.”
His hand tangled in my hair and forced me to look at him. “I never lied to you.”
“No,” I breathed out, feeling myself close. “You just hid the truth.”
With a frustrated groan, he pulled out.
“I did what I thought was necessary.”
“For who?”
“You still don’t get it.” He grabbed my forearm and roughly flipped me onto my stomach. I let him pull me to my knees as he prepared to enter me again.
“Everything I did was for us. But you’re too stubborn to see it.”
“Spare me the sob stories and fucking excuses. You did it because you want me to yourself. You’re the one who’s fucking selfish.”
I heard him breathe out hard, like a bull ready to destroy a red sheet. After that, my body stiffened slightly as he rammed into me.
“I’m selfish? My life revolves around how my actions affect you. My career is determined by my family, and I still want to give it up for you, Carmen.”
As he spoke, he punctuated each word with a stroke. His hand went to my hair again as he pulled me closer to his face before speaking again. “I built you this house, and you still think I’m selfish?”
My voice broke as I answered. “This is a prison, and you know it. I’m not staying here.”
“Yes, you are,” he commanded through gritted teeth.
“No, I’m not,” I argued. Instead of replying, he tightened his grip in my hair and shoved my head into the pillow. I turned my face slightly so that I could breathe as he continued to ram himself into me.
I took it all.
His frustration.
His anger.
His annoyance at my refusal to stay and his fear of losing me.
He pumped it all into my body with force that rattled the headboard.
Our grunts and groans felt lost in the air.
My fingers gripped the sheets so tightly that my polish chipped.
The hands that usually comfort me in this ‘situation’ were engrossed in my hair, keeping my head low as I maintained my arch for him.
“You act like a spoiled brat, Carmen.”
“Fuck you, Theodore.” I spat. He didn’t respond.
Instead, he went harder. His breath was warm against the back of my neck, but I could feel the tension still locked in his frame. Finally his hand slid over mine and laced our fingers together on the sheets.
We were both close.
A part of me wanted to withhold my own release just to spite him.
But it was no use.
We finished together with a thunderous groan tearing through both of us.
When it was over, he pulled away from me without a word.
No kiss. No look.
Just silence.
“You know this doesn’t fix anything,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said, his voice a raw scrape against my skin. “But it kept you here. For tonight.”
He climbed off the bed, muscles tight and jaw clenched, and began to gather his clothes. Methodical. Distant. Like this was just another task to get through. I lay there frozen, my chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate breaths, eyes burning holes into the back of his head.
He wouldn’t look at me.
Coward.
When he was fully dressed, he paused at the doorway, one hand on the frame.
“The driver will take you back to the hotel in the morning,” he said flatly.
My throat tightened, but I swallowed it down.
“Whatever, Theo,” I muttered, barely above a whisper. “Just go.”
He scoffed, almost laughed—but it wasn’t amusement. He shook his head and stepped forward to leave.
“Wait,” I said sharply. He stopped, spine stiffening.
“You forgot something.”
I slid out of the bed, legs weak but steady enough to carry me those few feet. I walked toward him slowly.
He turned, eyes unreadable. I didn’t flinch. I reached for his hand, turned his palm open, and placed the ring in it.
Princess cut. Golden. Engraved with the date we met.
It looked out of place in his hand.
His fingers closed around it instinctively, but his face didn’t move.
I stared at him one second longer, then reached for the door and slammed it shut between us.
The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot.
And then I slid down the back of it, legs folding underneath me, and let the sobs take over. Silent and shaking at first, then loud, uncontrollable, ugly. The kind of cry that emptied your lungs and split your heart in two.
I stayed there for what felt like hours, my back to the door, knees to my chest, face buried in trembling hands.
And on the other side of the wood, I didn’t hear his footsteps.
I didn’t hear anything at all.
Just silence.