Marcus held the woman tighter, his own breathing ragged as he tried to wrestle the animal instinct back into its cage. Her struggles only brought them into more intimate contact, and the man's heavy breathing was stirring something deep within her. Her usual icy composure was shattered, replaced by a flustered, feminine panic.
She was acutely aware that if this continued for another moment, she would be completely overwhelmed, powerless to resist the man who was taking advantage of her.
She didn't realize that the moment he had first grabbed her, her defenses had already begun to crumble.
"No! Let go of me!"
Tears, cold and sudden, welled in her eyes. Seeing them was like a bucket of ice water, but it wasn't enough. The heat in his body was a furnace now, his control fraying. His lips were drifting dangerously close to her skin again.
Driven by a final surge of modesty and self-preservation, she brought her knee up.
"Mmm…"
A soft, frustrated sound escaped him as he blocked her. He'd sensed the movement and reacted, driving his hip forward, his leg sliding between hers to pin her raised knee against the wall. The action eliminated the last sliver of space between them.
And in that moment, she felt it; the hard, undeniable pressure of his arousal against her lower abdomen.
'What is that?' The thought was a confused, startled flutter. It was so… present. So hot. And it was throbbing with a rhythm that seemed to sync with her own pounding heart. A strange, unwelcome warmth bloomed in her own core, a traitorous response that made her legs feel weak. It was uncomfortable, yet a part of her was terrifyingly willing to let this happen. Only with this man, in this insane situation, could she be treated this way.
"Mmm… Marcus Storm, you scoundrel…"
The moan was torn from her, a sound of utter defeat. Her body went limp, all fight leaving her as she leaned weakly against him, letting his hot breath wash over her face.
'I'm losing it. The technique… it's doing this.' The thought was a desperate mantra. This woman was impossibly tempting, but the savage satisfaction of conquest that swelled in his chest felt alien, inflated. His male ego was being pumped up like a balloon, and it wasn't entirely his own.
He could feel the softness of her beneath him, the woman's warmth searing through the layers of their clothes. It was a bliss that felt like a trap. He was shocked at how easily his body had reacted, how his self-control had simply evaporated.
In truth, he hadn't realized the video call with Talia before coming home had already lit a fuse, seeing her seductive figure and teasing smile. Now, with the intimate friction against this cold woman, that fuse had reached its end.
"Marcus, please… let me go."
A single, crystal tear traced a path down her cheek. Her eyes, once like chips of arctic ice, were now clouded and deep, impossible to read.
Marcus's mind was a fog of feverish impulse, the woman's pleas barely registering. A raw, overwhelming need had taken root, drowning out his better judgment.
His hands slid from her delicate wrists, past the slender curve of her waist, to settle on the firm swell of her hips.
The warmth and softness of her were intoxicating, just as he'd imagined. His thumb stroked the curve of her hip almost of its own volition, and he felt himself leaning in, his mouth seeking the skin of her face.
Then, a cold tear hit his cheek.
The sensation was a jolt to his system, a crack in the fever dream. He blinked, clarity returning like a dash of cold water. The woman in his arms was pressed against him, her hands now clutching at his back. Her heart hammered against his ribs, but her eyes were swimming, filled with a shattered, vulnerable despair that made his stomach clench.
'What the hell am I doing?'
This wasn't him. He wasn't some saint, sure. If this were Lily, or Serena, or any of the women he actually cared for, this passion would have a foundation, a reason. There'd be feeling behind it.
But this woman was a stranger. He knew nothing about her. This wasn't passion; it was just a blind, raging hunger. It felt… foreign.
The Human Rock technique. It surely had to be. He could feel it now, a wild, surging current under his skin, a fierce and overbearing sense of dominance roaring in his chest. The second stage; Champion. It was pure, unadulterated possession. The feeling of a king claiming what was his, his self-will running rampant. This wasn't just lust; it was the technique stoking a primal urge to dominate, and he was just along for the ride.
"I'm sorry."
The words felt inadequate, but he forced them out as he let her go, stepping back quickly, putting space between them.
Without his support, she slumped against the wall, her legs visibly unsteady. The sight sent a fresh wave of guilt through him. He'd done that. He'd reduced her to this.
"I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to..." he stammered, but the words died in his throat. What could he even say?
"Who are you?" he finally managed, latching onto the first coherent thought. "Why are you here?"
For some reason, the question seemed to enrage her. Her icy composure snapped back into place. "Marcus Storm, you bastard! You utter pig!"
She gathered her Inner Energy and struck out with both palms.
'Damn it.' A part of him, the part still riding the Champion high, instantly regretted releasing her.
He tried to twist away, but the distance was closed. He hadn't expected her to recover so fast. There was no time. He just managed to flood his chest with the Human Rock Energy a split-second before her palms connected.
'God, that's cold!'
Her Inner Energy hit him like a truck made of ice. Even with his defenses up, a sharp, bruising pain exploded through his ribs. Acting on pure instinct, his hands shot out and locked around her wrists as he was thrown backward by the force of her blow.
He hit the carpet with a heavy thud, the impact driving the air from his lungs. But he held on, and her follow-through, fueled by pure rage, was clumsy. She tumbled down with him, and in an instant, they were tangled together again, her body sprawled atop his.
The proud woman was utterly humiliated. She'd come for revenge, to teach him a lesson, and instead, she'd been manhandled, and was now right back in his arms. The frustration was maddening.
Seeing her fall toward him, Marcus's arms instinctively closed around her to break her fall. He was struck again by the soft warmth of her, a contrast to the chilling pain in his chest. The full weight of her pressed down on him, a confusing mix of agony and a deeply unsettling pleasure.
'Pain and pleasure. This is insane.'
She started to struggle again, and he knew he couldn't let her get another clean shot. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he rolled, pinning her hands and using his body weight to cover her, immobilizing her.
"Marcus Storm, you animal! Let me go, or I swear I'll..!"
She was cut off as a familiar, unwelcome sensation washed over her. Her body went soft, all the strength sapping from her limbs. It was happening again.
'Oh, come on. Not now.'
Marcus was a man, and having a stunning woman writhing beneath him was pushing every button he had. His body was reacting on its own, a traitorous response that infuriated him.