Chapter Four: Claimed
The zipper of Elena's dress tore down with a violent sound that echoed in the room. His hands were everywhere, demanding, possessive, rough in ways that should have frightened her but instead set every nerve ending on fire.
"You think you can hit me and get away with it?" His voice was gravel and fury against her neck, teeth grazing her pulse point hard enough to leave marks. "You think you have any control here?"
Elena gasped as he lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pressed her harder against the wall. The emerald silk pooled at her feet, forgotten.
"Answer me." His hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat.
"No," she breathed, the word half moan, half surrender.
"No what?"
"No, I don't have control."
