I claw at his forearms, my feet kicking at his shins as he carries me to the bed, but it’s useless. All I achieve is having the towel unwrap in the back. His arm around my ribcage keeps it from falling to the floor, but my back, buttocks, and the right side of my body are completely exposed. I can feel his bare chest rubbing against my back, smell the clean male musk of his skin, and the unwanted intimacy intensifies my panic, making me struggle even harder.
“Fuck,” he growls as my heel connects with his knee, and I feel a small flare of triumph.
It doesn’t last long. A second later, he falls backward on the bed, dragging me with him, and before I can react, he rolls over, pinning me underneath him. I end up facedown on the blanket, my hands scratching uselessly at the soft surface and my legs weighed down by his heavily muscled calves. With his palm over my mouth, I can’t do anything except make muffled noises, and tears of panic burn my eyes as I feel the hard log of his erection against the curve of my ass. Only his briefs separate us now, and I double my struggles despite the futility of it all.
It takes a couple of minutes for me to wear myself out—and to realize he’s not moving.
He’s restraining me, but he’s making no attempts to take me.
“Are you done now?” he murmurs when I go limp, my muscles shaking from exertion and my lungs screaming for air. “Or do you want to wrestle some more? I can do this all night long.”
I believe him. He’s so much bigger than me that all he has to do is lie on top, and I can neither hurt him nor get away. The effort expended on his part is minimal, while I’m using all my strength with zero success.
“Will you behave if I remove my hand?” His lips hover just above my ear, his breath heating my skin.
My shoulders bunch up to protect my neck from those encroaching lips, and he lets out an audible sigh. “All right, I guess I’ll gag you and get my handcuffs.”
I make a muffled noise behind his palm, and he chuckles. “No? Will you behave then?”
I manage a small nod. Defeat is an acrid burn in my throat, but I don’t want to be gagged and cuffed.
“Good girl.” He shifts off me and removes his hand from my mouth, enabling me to drag air into my oxygen-starved lungs. “Now that you got that out of your system, how about we go to sleep? I know you have a long day tomorrow, and so do I.”
“What?” I’m so startled I roll over onto my back, forgetting my nudity.
A slow, wicked smile curves his mouth as his gaze travels over my body before returning to my face. “Sleep, ptichka. We both need it.”
I sit up and grab a pillow, holding it pressed against my chest as I scoot toward the headboard—as far away from him as the bed allows. What he’s saying makes no sense. He clearly wants me; his huge erection is all but tearing through his briefs. “You… you want to sleep with me? Just sleep?”
The smile leaves his face, and his eyes gleam with dark heat. “Obviously, I want more, but tonight, I’ll settle for sleep. I told you, Sara—I won’t hurt you again. I’ll wait until you’re ready… until you want me as much as I want you.”
Want him? I want to scream that he’s insane, that I will never voluntarily have sex with him, but I swallow the retort. I’m too vulnerable right now, and he’s too unpredictable. Besides, when he’s asleep, I’ll have a chance to get away—maybe even smack him over the head and call the cops.
“All right.” I try to look even more helpless than I truly am. “If you promise not to hurt me…”
His lips quirk. “I promise.” Getting off the bed, he pulls the blanket from under me with one strong tug and turns it down before fluffing up the remaining pillows. Patting the exposed sheets, he says, “Come here.”
I scoot a few inches toward him, hugging my pillow to my chest.
“Closer.”
I repeat the maneuver, my heart thudding with anxiety. I don’t trust him one bit. He could be toying with me, lying about his intentions for some bizarre purpose.
“Get under the blanket,” he says, and I obey, glad to have something other than a pillow to cover me. Unfortunately, my relief is short-lived. As soon as I lie down, he turns off the overhead light and gets under the blanket next to me, his long, muscular body stretching out beside me like he belongs there.
“Roll over onto your right side,” he says and does so himself after turning off the bedside lamp—our last remaining source of illumination.
My ribcage tightens as I understands what he intends.
My husband’s killer wants to spoon with me.
Ignoring the disorienting darkness and the choking feeling in my throat, I turn onto my side and try to breathe evenly as one muscular arm stretches out under the pillow below me and the other one wraps possessively around my ribcage, pulling me into the curve of his big body. However, breathing evenly is impossible. My naked butt nestles against the hard length of his cock, his warm, minty breath fans the fine hair at my temple, and his legs mold against mine from the back. I’m surrounded, completely overtaken by his size and strength. And heat. God, his body generates so much heat. Wherever his bare flesh presses against mine, I feel burned, as if he runs hotter than a regular human being. Except it’s not him—it’s me. I’m so frozen I’m shivering, the cold sweat having evaporated on
