When he turned, I lifted a hand. “King, we can’t do this,” I stated softly but firmly. “I can’t do this.”

Both of his hands gripped my hair, holding my head perfectly still as his face drew closer. “Why not?”

“Too many reasons,” I answered breathlessly. “The first being that you’re Justin’s best friend.”

“Justin’s dead, Jena,” he stated flatly, his face so close to mine that all I could see were his black eyes. They glittered like ice, cold and deadly.

I flinched at his blunt words, but kept trying to get through to him. “And I’m not the type of girl who shares. I know your other….girlfriends probably don’t care, or at least act like they don’t, but I’m not interested in someone who fucks everything with tits.”

His grip on my hair tightened painfully, to the point that I gasped. King’s eyes flickered and his hands relaxed, but only slightly. “I don’t know where you got the idea I’m a manwhore, babe, but I’m a little more discriminating than that.”

I didn’t believe that for a second. He was too damn good at wringing orgasms from my body, as though he’d had lots of practice. “Okay, then, I’m not in the market for a fuck buddy, a boyfriend, or any kind of male companionship.”

Suddenly, King was laughing again, his rage forgotten. Still grinning, he leaned forward even more until our lips barely touched.

I held my breath, because I was seconds away from trying to stick my tongue in his mouth.

“Who are you trying to convince, Jena? Me or you?” he whispered against my lips. “Because you are definitely in need of a man, and definitely a man like me. You think I’m a complete asshole, yet you let me do whatever the fuck I wanted to you last night. You didn’t even blink when I bent you over my desk naked except for those sexy as hell boots you’re wearing right now. You got off on it. You got off on everything I did to you. I know you haven’t had a man since Justin died. It shows. So I’m gonna give you what you need and I’m gonna take what I want.”

I no longer wanted to stick my tongue in his mouth. No, I wanted to slap that smug look off his face. Mostly because everything he said was true and I hated it. I despised my weakness. Even though I thought he was a dick, he was hot and I’d all but begged him to screw me last night.

I reached out and fisted my hand in his shirt. “Fuck you, Alaric.”

I felt his smile against my mouth since our lips were still touching and a shiver ran down my spine because that smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“What’d I tell you about sayin’ that to me?” he rumbled, rising to his knees on the couch, leaning over me with our faces all but pressed together.

I shoved at his chest, angry but turned on at the same time. I wanted to bite him, scratch him, and leave my marks all over his body. No one had ever elicited such a desire to commit violence from me before.

He didn’t budge.

Fisting both hands in the fabric of his shirt, I pulled him down on top of me, my legs spreading to make room for his hips.

“If you wanna fuck me, I’m the only woman you’re fucking,” I snarled, sinking my teeth into his bottom lip.

King didn’t hesitate. He shoved my dress up and ground the heel of his hand against my center. “This is the only pussy I want right now.” He rotated his palm over me, pressing down hard. “And this is mine until I tell you otherwise, understand?” he demanded.

“Fine,” I snapped, lifting my hips against the caress. My fingers tangled in his hair and I pulled his head back before sinking my teeth into his throat deep enough to leave a mark.

There was a sharp tug at my hips and I heard fabric rip. I clawed at King’s back when his fingers slid inside me, pressing deep.

My head rolled back, a moan pouring out of my throat.

“You like that?” King asked, his voice low and rough.

My legs fell open wider and I squirmed as his fingers stroked me, but I didn’t answer.

“Last night was fun, babe, but I want a bed this time.”

King stood and lifted me to my feet, the remnants of my panties falling to the floor. I tripped as he dragged me out of the living room and down the hall to the bedroom, but he kept me from falling.

It was rough, angry, and wild. Something dark overwhelmed me. I wanted to devour him, to annihilate him. I bit and scratched, leaving teeth and nail marks all over his body. King didn’t seem to mind.

“Fucking wildcat,” he growled.

When it was over, I lay facedown on the mattress, my body aching inside and out. I kept my head turned away from King, staring blankly at the wall. I had no idea what came over me when I was with him.

I disliked King more than I’d ever disliked anyone. I didn’t loathe many people, but he rubbed me the wrong way from the moment I met him. Why couldn’t I keep my hands off him?

Suddenly, my throat felt tight and scratchy, and my eyes burned. I was ashamed of myself. I was completely out of control. That was the only explanation.

Slowly I sat up, reaching for the baggy t-shirt I usually wore to bed. After I dropped it over my head, I barely glanced over my shoulder. “I think you should go,” I muttered, getting to my feet and leaving the bedroom.

It may have been cowardly but I intended to hide in the bathroom while he dressed. After I cleaned up and washed my hands and face, I leaned over the counter, staring at myself in the mirror.

“What in the hell is your problem?” I whispered. “You’re losing your mind.”

I took a few more minutes to get myself together then opened the door. I stepped back abruptly. King stood in front of me; his hands braced high on the doorframe, wearing nothing but his unbuttoned black jeans and a scowl.

“Obviously, you still don’t understand how this is gonna go, Jena,” he stated.

I tried to yank my arm away when his hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist. Then he dragged me out of the bathroom.

I dug my heels in. “I’m tired of you shoving me around!” I yelled, fighting against his hold.

In a flash, King had me backed against the wall in the hallway and his face was in mine. Yet another thing I was tired of.

I shoved at him. “Back off, King!”

“This thing between you and me,” he started, gesturing between us, “it’s happening. You won’t admit it, but you want me. You can’t keep your goddamn hands off of me. Your mouth says you don’t wanna do this, but your body, well, it’s fuckin’ honest. As soon as I touch that pussy, you shut up and spread. Until that doesn’t happen anymore, it’s mine.”

The longer he spoke, the more I wanted claw his eyes out. I also wanted to sink my nails into his naked chest and throw him down on the floor. It was a bewildering response. How could I want to make him bleed yet screw him blind at the same time?

I reigned in my response. He wanted a reaction, but I refused to give him one. Shrugging off his hands, I slid to the side and turned my back on him, heading into the kitchen. I knew he followed me, but I ignored him.

I put ice in a glass and filled it with tap water, taking a long drink. Once I was sure I could speak without telling him to fuck himself, something I had to stop doing since it got me in trouble every damn time, I put the glass on the counter and faced him.

“Fine. Have it your way, King. We’ll do this for a while, but, when I decide I’m done, it’s done. You don’t get a say. If I put an end to this before you do, you accept it and walk away. Clear?”

He crossed his arms over his impressive chest, the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulging. Resolutely, I kept my eyes on his face, waiting.

“King?” I prompted.

He gave a sharp nod that I took as acceptance. My muscles relaxed and I leaned back against the counter.

With his agreement, I felt at least a semblance of control over the situation.

But it was a lie.

Like all things involving King Sloan, chaos would eventually rule and the illusion of constraint would be shattered.