The Human Rock technique surged in response to her struggles, the pain from her strike seeming to fuel its aggressive nature. That feeling of Champion; of absolute possession, flared hotter, warring with his revulsion. He knew he should stop, he knew it, but his head was lowering almost against his will, his breath growing heavy as he moved closer to her face.
"Marcus, don't you dare... No..."
After what happened before, she knew exactly what that look meant. Panic seized her, and she tried to twist her face away, but the more she moved, the weaker she felt. Her powerful Inner Energy, her Frostheart Discipline; it was all useless against this.
His lips found hers. The intoxicating scent of her skin completely enveloped his senses, and for a terrifying moment, the Champion's roar in his blood was the only thing he could hear.
"Marcus, no, don't."
The woman's plea was a strained whisper, tears glistening in her eyes, but this time, it failed to break the strange spell that had fallen over him. Marcus felt a disconnect, as if he were watching himself from a distance. His lips traced a path down her cheek to the elegant column of her neck. He felt a shiver run through her, a tremor that echoed his own internal war. The scent of her skin was intoxicating, like a siren's call that clouded his reason.
When his mouth settled at the base of her throat, he went still. The warmth of her skin against his lips was a brand. Her pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against his mouth, and her panic became a tangible thing in the air.
The calm before the storm. The thought, sharp and clear, cut through the fog in his mind. A dangerous precipice loomed ahead. With a Herculean effort, he wrestled the rising tide of desire back, just enough to form words.
"Who are you?" His voice was a ragged, low growl against her skin. "Why did you attack me? Talk to me."
"Marcus, no… you… you scoundrel."
"Marcus, you heartless jerk."
"Please, let me go."
Her mutterings were disjointed, reflexive. Marcus forced himself to look at her face. The icy disdain was gone, melted away by a flush of feverish color. Her eyes were glazed, hazy with a confusion that mirrored his own. She was captive, and so was he; a prisoner to whatever this was.
Seeing her like that, so vulnerable and yet so utterly captivating, the last vestiges of his chivalry were incinerated by a fresh, scorching wave of need. A voice in his head screamed that this was wrong, but it was a whisper against a hurricane. His body moved on its own, a predator succumbing to a deep-seated instinct. He lowered his head again, his lips brushing her neck in a ghost of a kiss before his teeth caught the fabric of her collar.
With a sharp rip, he tore the outer garment open, baring the stunning sight beneath.
It was summer, and she wore little underneath. The swell of her breasts, pale and full, was constrained only by a simple light blue bra. With every shuddering breath she took, the soft flesh shifted, a mesmerizing dance that held his gaze completely captive.
"No! Marcus, don't…"
The sudden cool air seemed to shock her back to a sliver of awareness. Her eyes flew open, wide with alarm as she looked down at her exposed state. But when her gaze met his; the raw, helpless hunger in his eyes, her own protest died in her throat. A wave of heat, traitorous and undeniable, pooled low in her belly. She was losing this fight, too.
"Marcus…"
His name escaped her lips as a helpless, breathy moan, and it was the final nail in his coffin.
"God, you're beautiful," he breathed, the words torn from him. He was utterly entranced by the woman beneath him. Rational thought was a distant memory. He started to lower his head, determined to taste the skin he had exposed.
Just then, the bathroom door creaked open, and a slender figure stepped out.
The newcomer's eyes adjusted to the dim living room light, landing on the tangled forms on the floor. Her sister, Crystal, was pinned beneath a familiar, broad-shouldered man; Marcus. The scene was one of raw, undeniable intimacy.
"Marcus, no…"
"Youl…"
Crystal's weak, moaned protests were undercut by the pliancy of her body, which made no real effort to dislodge him.
'What the hell is going on?'
The slender figure stared, bewildered. Then she saw the tears of sheer frustration tracking through the blush on her sister's cheeks.
"Marcus, you get your hands off my sister right now!"
Understanding dawned, and with it, a flash of pure fury. She remembered this man's wicked charm all too well. Without a second thought, she launched herself across the room.
The sound jolted Marcus from his trance. He pulled back from the intoxicating proximity of Crystal's breasts, his head swimming. His gaze first landed on a pair of long, shapely legs, pale and smooth in the low light.
His eyes traveled upward, taking in the large bath towel wrapped around a slender frame. It covered the essentials but did nothing to hide the soft, graceful curves beneath.
When his eyes finally reached her face, the fire in his veins was doused with a bucket of cold reality. Even though she was a stunning young woman; with her delicate, moon-shaped brows, her small, perfect nose, and a playful mouth that usually invited teasing; all he felt was a sinking dread.
'Oh, hell no. Not her. Why is she here?'
This "little devil" was Jade Nance, Serena's cousin. She'd visited for a week once, and in that short time, she and Marcus's sister, Amber, had formed a terrifying alliance with one shared hobby: making his life miserable. Her appearance now could only mean one thing.
The woman pinned beneath him was Crystal Nance, Jade's older sister. The pride of the Nance family. Serena and Jade had talked about her constantly.
'They must have come because of Snow.'
The name was a lance of pure agony through his heart. If he had known who Crystal was, he would have let her pummel him into the ground without lifting a finger.
The full, horrifying weight of his actions crashed down on him. He had just manhandled Snow's cousin. How could he ever face her memory after this? The thought was a void, sucking all the heat and desire from him, leaving only a cold, paralyzing shame.