Intense feelings
His kiss was demanding and hungry,His tongue caressed her mouth,entwining with hers,teasing her.
Longing set in her whole body making her feel aflame and she wrapped her arms aroused broad shoulders.She ran her hands through his dark hair as he deepened the kiss.
"The picture didn't do you justice,"he whispered against her cheeks when he drew away from her.Men wage war over women like you…."
The hair of his arms brushed against the bare skin of her upper body and she looked down with a gasp.The sheet had fallen from her hands and was now crumpled around her waist.His eyes moved over her breast,her belly,the aroused nipples pushing through the transparent white lace of her bra.
Before she could pull up the sheet,his hands were already on her naked skin,grappling her waist as he pull her roughly against his body
She didn't fight him,not like she could fight him her all body screaming for his touch,he kissed her,his large hands rubbing the bare warmth of her back,all she could think of was that she'd never been kissed this way before,she was lost _ lost in him_and the whole world seemed to spin around her as if she was in the center of a whirlwind.
Without thinking, she slid her hand beneath his shirt, mimicking the way he had touched her—her fingers tracing the firm lines of his abdomen, gliding upward over the hard planes of his chest.
A low groan escaped him when his hand brushed the clasp of her bra.
Then—a sharp knock shattered the moment.
He jerked away, chest heaving. For a long heartbeat, they simply stared at each other. He looked stunned, but she was sure he wasn't half as shaken as she was.
His expression shifted, hardening.
"You're good," he said, the words edged with accusation.
She blinked. Good?
As if she'd been the one seducing him?
He turned abruptly toward the door. A young woman stood there, arms full—holding a bundle of folded clothes.
Without a word, he took them and tossed a black dress and a pair of high-heeled shoes onto the bed in front of Elena.
"Here. Maria took off your veil so you'd be comfortable in bed." His voice was barely a sneer. "These clothes should fit."
"Y—you're leaving?" she stammered. Her legs felt like jelly; she could barely stand, let alone walk.
He watched her for a long, brooding moment, anger shadowing his features. Then, without another word, he moved back toward the door.
"Wait." Her voice dropped to a whisper. The day had been a roller coaster of emotion and exhaustion; tears pricked her eyes and threatened to spill. "Is that all you have to say? You dragged me from my wedding, kidnapped me across the Mediterranean, kissed me—and now you're going to leave without a single explanation?"
His dark eyes narrowed. Dislike radiated from him like desert heat.
"Very well. I'll give you that much." His tone was flat, deliberate. "You want my name? Damian Cole. What do I want from you? It's simple, Miss Winter: I intend to destroy your fiancé and your family, and you're going to help me do it."
Maybe he should have let Reyes kidnap the girl after all.
Damian Cole glanced at the woman sitting stiffly beside him in the Rolls-Royce as the chauffeur steered them inland, three miles from the coast.
Silence at last.
It was a definite improvement from the previous hours, when she'd begged him to release her so she could run back and marry Richard Vale. When begging failed, she'd moved on to insults… then threats.
The memory almost made him laugh. He wasn't one of her pampered suitors. Her moods held no power over him.
…Or did they?
The image of their kiss slammed into his mind. He hadn't intended to kiss her on the yacht—not for a single second—but she had looked so damn tempting. And the kiss itself…
No.
He shoved the thought away violently. According to the tabloids, she was a practiced little coquette, a woman who had supposedly slept with every male celebrity who passed through London. Of course she'd know how to kiss.
The car slowed as they reached the stone steps of the castle. His gaze betrayed him, drifting down the length of her body, tracing the curves shaped by the low-cut black dress he'd forced upon her.
Damian stepped out and walked around to her door.
She still refused to look at him, chin lifted in icy defiance.
Without a word, he reached in and closed his hand firmly around her arm.
He hauled her from the car, barely giving her time to catch her balance before dragging her up the castle steps.
Her face hardened into that rebellious expression he already knew too well. "I won't stay here. You can't make me."
She tore her arm from his grip and folded both arms tightly over her full, tempting breasts as she stepped inside the castle. The heavy doors swallowed her small figure, the towering stone walls seeming to close in around her.
Keeping her here would financially devastate both of his enemies. Without the marriage between their families, Richmond would refuse to sell oil on credit to Elena's brother.
Let them suffer.
In the meantime, he was stuck with Elena as his unwilling prisoner.
His gaze slid over her again—her stunning silhouette framed by the low-cut dress, the spill of red hair cascading down her bare back. Her skin was pale as winter, soft-looking as a summer breeze. God, how he longed to touch her—just once.
"You will join me for dinner," he said coolly.
Her full pink lips curled in disdain. "I'd rather starve."
"As you wish." His nostrils flared as he turned to his head of security, who stood quietly behind them.
"Reyes," Damian said, voice cutting through the air, "lock Miss Hart in the tower."