Page 42 of The Devoted Game

Without a single pause he moved directly into her personal space. Incredibly, she let him.

“I need you to protect me from myself, Vivian Grace.” He studied her face as if he had just one shot to memorize every tiny detail. Lastly, he homed in on her lips, licked his own. “You have the most—”

“Amazing lips,” she finished, her outrage going from mild to mighty in just one downward sweep of his inordinately thick lashes as his undivided attention zeroed in on her lips. “I’ve heard it before, McBride.”

His gaze linked with hers, and the wicked satisfaction twinkling there incited her competitive streak.

“You’ve been bucking for a reaction from me since the moment you opened your front door and found me waiting on the other side,” she accused. “You’re not going to get what you want. You might as well give up now.”

He reached out, and she stiffened as those long fingers of his twined in and trailed the length of a wisp of hair that had fallen loose from its clasp. “You should wear your hair down.”

As angry as she was, that surly, sexy voice of his still managed to make her tremble inside.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with, McBride.”

His gaze flew back to hers as she grabbed him by the shoulders and, in that instant before she pulled his mouth down to hers, she saw two things ... surprise and hesitation. His reaction spurred her courage. She kissed him hard on the lips, lingered a moment to ensure he got a good taste of hers. That was what he’d harped on ... obsessed about ... driven her crazy over—her lips.

Just as abruptly, she pushed him away and backed up a step. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of our systems, take a shower. The food will be here soon. And I don’t know about you, but I want some sleep.”

As she walked away, she called over her shoulder, “Leave your clothes outside the guest room door, and I’ll throw them in the wash.”

She closed her bedroom door behind her and sagged against it. Had she just done that?

Her trembling fingers touched her lips. She’d had a point to make, that was all. Then why did she feel all shaky and warm inside? That wasn’t supposed to happen. She had been aiming to back him off ...

Somehow she had missed the mark, by about a mile.

10:30 p.m.

“Be still.”

Vivian froze ... didn’t even breathe. She stood before him, back straight in spite of her fear ... knees ready to buckle. The wet fabric of the tank top clung to her skin, molded to her unrestrained breasts. If she moved ... if she dared to drag the dank air into her lungs, he would notice.

A finger flicked across one pebbled nipple.

Her gasp was involuntary. Be still! Don’t move. Don’t breathe.

He smiled, the expression a stark, mocking contrast to the bejeweled mask covering the entirety of his face above that sneering mouth. “You like that, don’t you?”

Bile churned in her stomach. “Yes,” she lied, careful to keep her voice submissive, her eyes lowered. She would never forget those demonic eyes. Never.

The tip of that same finger trailed down her rib cage, over her belly to stop at the edge of her panties. It took every ounce of resistance she possessed not to shudder in disgust.

“On your knees,” he demanded, his voice cruel, his eyes glowing like amber coals straight from hell.

She lowered to the cold, damp stone floor. Inside, she screamed. Please make him stop. Somebody please help me. But outside, where he could see, she remained composed, obedient. His servant.

She stared at his crotch through slitted eyes; the bulge there made her jaw tighten. She struggled to loosen those clenched muscles. Had to relax. Don’t let him see the tension.

Please, please, don’t let him do this. Not again.

“Suck me.”

The savagely whispered order sent dread creeping over her flesh, sinking into her bones. Obediently, her fingers went directly to the fly of his trousers. She knew better than to hesitate. If she hesitated, even a single second, she would die. Like the others.

She opened his trousers and cautiously worked him free of his form-fitting briefs. He groaned. Her body operated on autopilot ... her mind took her someplace else. Far away. So she wouldn’t have to see ... so she wouldn’t have to feel.

He gripped her chin ruthlessly, tilted her face upward. The pad of his thumb smeared across her lips. She felt no physical or mental response to his touch. She felt nothing now ... nothing ... not even the fear. She was in that place he couldn’t reach. It was her only escape. Her heart knew the truth, and now her mind accepted it. No one was coming to save her. She was on her own.