The shot rang out as he swept my wrists up and over my head and swung me down onto the mattress. The bullet had been fired into a pillow, and I struggled with trying to get a second shot in.
"Murderous bitch," he muttered, as he wrestled the gun out of my hand.
I screamed out in frustration as I fought him. Scratching at his arms and back as my knees came up to make contact with his lower appendages.
Prying the gun from my fingers, he raised it over our heads and fired a warning shot. I screamed and covered my face.
"Will you stay still, now?" He stated calmly, as he flipped off the bed and went out to the balcony.
From the awkward angle I had on the bed, my head falling over the side of the mattress, I watched as he flung my gun over the side of the railing.
"Son of a bitch," I whispered as he sauntered back in. A loud splash sounded in the distance, and I realized he'd thrown my gun in the pool below.
"You'll pay for that one."
"Oh. I fucking hope so." He made his way towards me with purposeful strides.
It took me a second to realize what he was going to do, but by the time I reacted, it was already too late.
It happened too fast.
One second, I was kicking off the sheets and scrambling to bolt from the bed, my instincts screaming louder than the blood rushing through my ears, and the next, his hands were already on me. Rough and possessive.
Caleb’s fingers clamped around my ankles, yanking me back across the slick black silk sheets as if I were nothing but prey caught in his net. I thrashed, kicking hard, my heel connecting with the sharp edge of his jaw. I heard the crack, felt the jolt up my leg, but all it did was make him grunt. A savage grin cracked across his face, and I realized he was enjoying this. I’d just turned him the fuck on.
"Don’t touch me!" I spat, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets, my nails tearing into the fabric as I tried to crawl away.
But he was already climbing onto the bed, straddling me before I could make another move. His weight pinned me down, forcing me flat to the mattress, my face pressed into the cool silk as he ripped the leather jacket from my body in one sharp tug.The soft brush of fabric vanished as he reached for the belt I hadn’t even noticed lying on the floor.
The moment I felt the leather tighten around my wrists, the rage in my chest lit like wildfire.
“You son of a... ”
“Shhh…” His voice curled hot against the shell of my ear as he leaned over me, his breath thick with the sweetness of the wine he'd been drinking. “Did you really think it would be that easy, Duchess? I’ve been watching every step you take. Every breath. Every lie you’ve told yourself since I found you again.”
His hand slid over my bare arms, down to my hips, and beneath me. His fingers brushed the edge of my breasts, sending a jolt of pleasure through me, and I felt it as my nipples tightened.
“If you wanted in my bed that bad, sweetheart…” he murmured, his mouth dragging along my throat, “all you had to do was ask.”
I growled and bucked, twisting under him until I managed to roll to my back, wrists still bound but fury blooming in my eyes. I looked up, expecting that brutal gleam he always wore when his control slipped, but instead I found something that twisted deep inside me. Something I didn't want to feel for him.
Softness.
His gaze searched mine, dark eyes laced with a hunger I didn’t want to name, a look that burned hotter than anger.
"What do you want, Caleb?” I snapped, voice low, breathless. “What the fuck do I have to do to get you off my ass?”
That wicked smirk curved across his face, and I wanted to smack it off him. He leaned in closer, lips brushing the corner of my mouth. “But it’s your ass I want to bein,Duchess.”
“Fuck you,” I snarled, jamming my knee into his side and twisting hard. The belt scraped against my skin as I slid free.
I stumbled off the bed, my bare feet hitting the cold floor. I ran for the door, heart racing, my blood still humming as my adrenaline surged.
But when I reached the doorway to the hallway, I realized something wasn’t right.
He wasn’t chasing me.
I stopped, turned slowly, and there he was. Kneeling on the bed, hands resting on his thighs, that broad chest rising with each breath like he was the one trying to steady himself. Moonlight spilled in through the windows, gilding every hard angle of his body. His hair was a mess, wild and tousled, and the hardness straining beneath the fabric of his briefs made my mouth go dry.
