Forbidden (Blood Ties #7)

Any way I could get it.

I wanted in that cunt…so fucking bad. Balls deep, coming all over her and down that pretty throat. My pulse sped.Jesus, what the fuck was I doing?I swallowed hard as she stumbled backwards. “You’re getting blood all over my floor.”

She looked down and winced. “Good.” Her tone was spiteful as she met my gaze. “Come near me and I’ll pull out the shard and stab you in the eye.”

“It’s about all you could do with it,” I muttered and strode forward to grab her around the waist.

“Wait!”She kicked.

But I didn’t lift her over my shoulder this time. Instead, I carried her across my chest in my arms as I strode to the interior door into the house. She fought for a second, then stilled, lifting those brown eyes to mine. They weren’t honey or mahogany, or even amber for that matter. They were burned coffee, almost black. The eyes of a survivor. She scowled, then turned away, breaking the connection.

I carried her along the hall and past the expansive foyer that encircled the rainforest I had growing half inside. The place was crafted around the look. Lush greens of the tropical gardens softened the harsh steel and cold glass. Paired with polished timber floors this place was…perfection.

Myperfection.

My private paradise.

One I’d brought no one to…not until now.

She turned her head, mesmerized by the hiss of the mist and the lush gardens as I carried her past the kitchen and along the hallway to the main bedroom.

“Lights,” I commanded, and the room lit up with a soft amber glow.

“What do you know?” she muttered, scanning my bedroom. “A monster with taste.”

I jerked my gaze to hers, stopping long enough to snarl. “Bathroom lightson.”

Her feet dropped, maybe a little too hard, before I drove her against the cupboard.

“Better watch that pretty mouth of yours, Helene Montgomery.” I pushed harder. “Before I fuck it.”

The lines at the corner of her eyes creased as she scowled. Jesus, she was cute when she was mad. I fought the need to prod her anger a little deeper. But I lifted her instead, placing her on the edge of the vanity. A quick yank of the drawer and I pulled a pair of tweezers free and reached for her leg.

She pulled away, causing me to glare at her. Then she stilled, allowing me to grasp her leg and gently lift it upwards.

Look at that…

Trouble could play nice after all.

My gaze went to the hemline of my shirt as it rose on those creamy thighs, ones criss-crossed with razor fine scars. I exhaled slow and hard and bit my lower lip.

“What?” she croaked.

I met those scorched-earth-colored eyes and answered. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing as I searched her foot for the glass, but my other goddamn senses were on her body and the way she shoved my shirt between her thighs. I wanted to yank it out, to tear the buttons off and the ripped fabric free. I wanted…I wanted her spread out on my bed so I could look at her.

No.

So I could look at what was mine.

My gaze flicked between her thighs as I dropped her leg.

I had to shake myself out of this. She wasn’t mine. She wasn’t anyone’s…she was dangerous.

Not dangerous because I was scared—dangerous because I was desperate.

I glanced at the blood on the shirt. “Your side.”