Rule's Addiction (12 page)

Maria held her drink out to the side, attempting to keep the liquid in the glass from sloshing her skirt and blouse.

Garrett leaned both arms on either side of her head, enclosing her in his space. “What’d I tell you last night?”

Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. “I’m sorry?”

“Last night,” he said again, “What’d I tell you?”

“You told me a lot of things.” She took a quick breath, knowing good and well he was referring to Luis Calderon and the arm the man had wrapped around her a few moments before. “You told me to stay out of the stairwell.”

His eyes turned glacial. “I told you nobody touches you.”

She lifted her chin and clenched her jaw. “And I called bullshit on that, didn’t I?”

Just as a ferocious look crossed his face, the door pinged and the elevator slid to a halt on her floor. Garrett stepped back and held the door open, obviously expecting her to step out. Where the hell else was she supposed to go? She had no choice but to follow him out.

He grabbed hold of her arm again and began marching her toward her suite. The butterflies in her stomach expanded into a ribbon of need that began rocketing through her system, even though her brain was in a contest with her body.
Why not?
her girl parts wailed.
Because he’s an arrogant ass,
her brain replied.

As he all but frog-marched her down the corridor, she almost stumbled and he immediately gripped tighter. “How much have you had to drink?” he asked, pissed.

“Nothing.”

They’d arrived at her door, and he swung her back against it. “You’re drinking now. Are you telling me that one’s your first?”

“I’m telling you that this is Diet Coke.”

He looked more than skeptical; his expression said she was lying. “Bullshit.”

Fire lit her spine. “Smell it. Take a drink,” she challenged.

“Why’s it dressed up to look like a cocktail? And why’d you stumble?”

“I didn’t stumble.” Stumbling meant ending up face-first on the ground, right? She prayed her little trip-up hadn’t been nearly as ungraceful.

He growled as if out of patience with her answers. “Where’s your key-card?”

Seeing another couple leave their suite a few doors down and not wanting to continue standing there making a scene, Maria slipped her card from her pocket and slid it into her door. When she did it, a hard, dark hand reached around her and pushed the latch down and the door opened.

She gasped and tried to turn, not expecting that he’d try to get inside her room. She thought his intention earlier had only been to try to separate her from the men she was sitting with. She mumbled, “You can’t come in,” but it was already too late.

He propelled her forward into the suite with a firm hand at her back and then he stepped inside and turned and latched the door. As if in a daze, she stood still as he took the glass from her hand and put it to his nose. Looking her in the eye, he took a sip, obviously testing her, and then set the glass on the bureau next to the television.

Ignoring his lack of faith in her word, she swallowed and tried again, “I don’t want you in here, Garrett.”

“Don’t much care,” he bit out succinctly as he took a small white card from his back pocket and tossed it on the bureau next to the glass.

“What’s that?” she asked, glancing at what looked like a business card.

His eyes narrowed and he said through gritted teeth, “The name of a good attorney.”

Her heart skipped a beat and then began pounding so hard she could hear it in her eardrums. “An attorney?”

He took a step closer. “The best in the state. He specializes in sexual harassment. You’re going to need his services.”

Chapter Six

Holy
. Shit.
He was calling her bluff. A rush of white noise drowning out her thought process, her vocal chords seized up and she was unable to say a word. He tipped his chin up in a nod, as if he were confirming something that was registering in her head, and she took another step backward as he took another step forward.

“Garrett—”

“Yeah?” He reached out and swiped her hand in his and pulled her into his torso with a force that almost knocked the breath from her.

She tilted her head and looked up at him. “I don’t think—”

He cut her off with twisted lips.
“I don’t
care.”

Her nipples pebbled against the material of his t-shirt. “You can’t just—”

His hand sank into her hair and a look of utter command came over his features. “Yeah, I can.”

“But I don’t want—”

“I think you do want.” The fingers in her hair threaded all the way to her scalp and tightened, holding her firmly in his grip.

Her eyes widened and she made a last desperate attempt to wriggle from his hold.

He retaliated swiftly, swinging her around until her back was against the wall. He tried to force a leg between her knees, but her skirt was pencil slim, and with a low, pained sound coming from the back of his throat, he released her scalp just long enough to jerk her skirt up around her hips. She had nothing on underneath except satin briefs, and without missing a beat, he grasped the material at her hips and ripped her panties down her legs.

He forcibly lifted one foot and then the other, tossing her underwear aside. He pushed his knee between her thighs to hold her legs open and looked down toward her nude lower half. Her eyes closing, she heard him suck in a sharp breath through his teeth.

The back of Maria’s head hit the wall, and she stood still, trying to take in oxygen as Garrett lifted a finger and trailed it down her cheek in a gentle touch that somehow made it all the more threatening.
“So gorgeous,”
he rasped out in a hoarse voice.
“So fucking beautiful.”

He leaned in to kiss her, his fingers moving to her chin and pulling it downward, giving him quick access to her mouth. Without thinking, her hands slid to his shoulders and clung. His kiss came quickly and was hard, hot, hungry, wet. Trying to fully grasp the situation, her breath hitched as heat blossomed between her thighs.

His hand snaked down with a determined path and found her slick, bare mound. At the first contact, a wave of heat slid down her spine at the same second that she felt his muscles contract under her palms, proving to her that he was just as involved in the moment. As his lips and tongue continued to ravish her mouth, his tongue plunging inside and retreating again and again, his fingers slid through her wet folds and found her clit. A coil of pure pleasure lashed out at her, and a moan escaped from the back of her throat, her hands clinging to him more tightly, trying to find stability in a world suddenly careening out of her control.

She was melting under a heady desire, and in the back of her mind, she was only glad that this was finally happening. She’d wanted this for so long, and she was glad that he was taking control, pushing them to this point. Maybe she’d never fully admitted it, but there was something that Garrett Rule had that she’d never come across in another man before. He had
something,
even if it was indefinable, and by God, she wanted it, or rather, her libido wanted it, even if her saner self wasn’t quite so sure.

A tickling concern came to her through the drugging of hunger clouding her head. She only had a few seconds, because in a few moments, he’d make a move for his zipper, and she knew she wasn’t going to stop him so she had to use her brain while it was still halfway functioning. Before this went any further, she broke her mouth from his and turned her head away, trying to get enough air to speak.

He pulled her face back around for his kiss, sinking his hand into her hair to hold her captive. Fireworks went off in her head, but she couldn’t let them get out of control before she’d settled this between them. She broke away again and managed to get her lips a few centimeters from his. “Garrett—”

He let her mouth go, but his forehead fell against hers and he tightened his palm into her mound, his fingers sinking into a firmer grip.
“What?”

“Do you have a—”

His eyes snapped open and she saw the impatient glaze of heat surrounding his irises.
“Have a what?”

“A condom,” she said softly.

As if in answer, he reached down and nipped sharply at her lower lip before grabbing one of her hands and pushing it against the wall, holding her firmly in place. He stared down at her, his eyes lit with a mercurial fever as he stated in what seemed to be recrimination, “I’ve been packing twenty-four/seven since the first moment I saw you.”

His answer, though affirmative, was hardly reassuring. As he stared down at her, holding her against the sheetrock, there seemed to be an accusatory look of barely-concealed restraint on his features that was saying his emotions,
his actions,
were her fault.

The lines of brooding hunger on his face were sending wary waves of heat through her system. Her stomach was flipping wildly with excitement, but she didn’t know if it was because of the almost feral hold of primal intent that he held her captured with, or in spite of it.

His eyes holding hers with a molten look of ownership, his fingers threaded through hers as he continued to hold her hand against the wall. With his other hand still claiming the naked heat between her thighs, his fingers caressed with an inexorable determination that was fast making her lose her sanity.

Her eyelids began to drop.

“No,” he stated unequivocally.

Her eyes widened and stayed glued to his as a wave of heat made her push against the fingers that were teasing her. “No?”

He shook his head. “Want to see it when you come.”

“Garrett-”

“
What?”

She was barely able to hold his gaze. “I can’t,” she whispered, her eyes slipping closed.

A dark frown descended on his features. “Why not?”

“It’s too—”

“Too what?” he bit out harshly.

“Too intimate.”

A slow, heated noise of reprisal came from his lips. He released her from his hold, but he continued to pin her in place against the wall with his torso, giving her no chance to maneuver away from him, as if he were readying himself to take some sort of twisted masculine revenge. Her eyes opened only a fraction before widening at his abrupt actions.

With a one-track, ruthless intent, he pulled his boots and socks off within seconds flat and made quick work of the fastening on his pants. Without any hesitation at all, he pushed his jeans and underwear down and off, pulling a plastic square from the pocket before tossing the garments aside. All the while, he held her plastered against the wall with a male dominance that left her little room to form a cohesive thought. He released her momentarily, stepping away from her to take his cock in his hand, his fist enclosing his length and stroking, causing a bead of pre-cum to seep from his slit. Even as he rolled the condom on his engorged length, he kept his eyes on her, undoubtedly knowing she was helpless to do anything but watch his movements, and probably knowing from her restless movements that the sight of his cock was arousing her.

With an impatient, jerky motion, he ripped open and discarded his shirt, then put his hands on either side of her blouse and tore it open. The sibilant hiss of material giving and the sound of buttons popping froze her in place, and a wicked shimmy of wanton heat slammed through her bloodstream. He held her eyes as he slowly, deliberately pulled her shirt off, and unzipped her skirt and allowed it to fall to her feet, leaving her naked but for her bra.

Feeling almost as if she were having a sexual dream, or an out-of-body experience, Maria’s heart beat loudly in her ears as Garrett pulled the cups of her bra down, forcing her breasts to pop out over the top, all the while staring into her eyes as he did it.

A hot, sexual moment passed between them before, slowly, his eyes dropped to her chest. His cheekbones became tinged with red, his expression showing a sudden strain. His lips molded into a satanic twist and his nostrils flared.

With a strength that astounded her, he lifted her at the butt and picked her up, putting her back against the wall and maneuvering her legs around his waist. In seconds, Maria felt his erection, hot and hard against her opening.

He lifted her chin, so his eyes caught and held hers again as he began pushing inside with an unrelenting force. Maria sucked in a breath and swallowed, her eyes on his as he thrust inside. The look on his face screamed satisfaction, and in some dark corner of her mind, realization dawned that it wasn’t only a sexual satisfaction he was feeling.

His erection was large and pulsing, wide and hard as he stretched her feminine flesh. Her breath hitched as he came to a halt and she knew he’d accomplished his goal; he was fully seated within her.

He bent his head and bit her bottom lip, and then lifted his face once again, penetrating her with his stare. His mouth tightening into lines of strain, he pulled out and then plunged in again with a force that dragged a startled cry from her lips, even as her body softened for him. Suddenly, he hissed out, “I’m looking and I’m
having.
”

Abruptly, his words pierced through the haze of desire she was feeling and she felt a flare of temper. “What?” She pushed her hands against his chest and tried to rear back, not quite believing he was throwing her words back at her.
Her words that had been spoken in Spanish
. The son-of-a-bitch spoke Spanish? “What did you say?” she asked again, letting her nails grip his unyielding flesh.