King’s (The King Trilogy #1)(16)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

He gripped my waist and spun us both around, planting my ass on the dresser. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back to stare possessively into my eyes.

I wasn’t scared, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I just knew I suddenly wanted him to do what he was doing.

He slowly dipped his head, and when his lips pushed against mine, I closed my eyes and relished the roughness of his kiss. He plunged his tongue between my lips, and I opened my mouth to him. The kiss was dangerous and dark. It was claiming and brutal. It pounded its way right through me, sending a hard heat charging between my legs.

I couldn’t get enough.

Suddenly, the man I was kissing felt like a different version of him. A version that was driven by passion and heart. A version that was powerful and determined, but never cruel.

I pushed my fingers through his black hair and savored the soft thickness of it. I slid my hands down to his broad shoulders and then glided them over the hard mounds of his pecs. God, he was so perfect.

I slipped my arms around him and pulled him closer, thinking about how I wanted our bodies to do what they were meant to.

Slowly, his hands journeyed over my br**sts to my hips, down to my knees, where he jerked my legs open and slid his body between them.

“I’m going to break you, Miss Turner.”

My eyes jarred open, but it wasn’t King standing intimately between my thighs. It was a beast with black eyes and translucent skin.

I screamed.

“Nice of you to join us, Miss Turner.”

Panting, my eyes darted from side to side. Ceiling. I was looking at a ceiling.

“Oh my God.” What happened? I sat up. I was on the bed in my hotel room, fully clothed and covered in dried mud. Only the very edges of the comforter remained a pristine white. The rest was as filthy as I was. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was one in the afternoon.

Then I glanced at King, who sat in the exact same corner of the room as I’d just dreamed about. But had it been a dream? I felt violated and rabid. I felt like he’d been inside my head and my body, and I wanted to scratch the bastard’s eyes out.

I lunged for King, but he had more than enough time to react. He threw me to the hard tile floor, knocking the wind from my lungs. I gulped for air and swung with my fists. He lunged on top of me and pinned my arms above my head. I wiggled and flailed. I wanted to kill him.

“Mia, you will calm yourself,” he snarled in my ear, “or I will do it for you.”

My breath returned to my body, and I sucked in the much-needed air. “Fuck you, King.”

“I thought we established that you are not my type. Though, perhaps I could be persuaded.”

Ugh! I fought to free my arms, but he simply laughed while the weight of his body crushed me.

“Get off me!”

“Trust me, I have far better things to do than quell a temper tantrum.” His lips twitched. He seemed to be enjoying this.

I stilled and feigned calmness.

“You think I don’t know that trick?” he scoffed. “I can feel the frenetic pace of your heart against my chest. But you’re much weaker than I, Mia. I’ll have you back on the floor before you bat an eyelash the wrong way.”

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the weight of his body pressing into me or that those intimate parts I’d just dreamed of were only separated by my muddy clothes and whatever he wore.

“We’ll stay here all day, if need be,” he cautioned. “However, if you continue to wiggle, you may trigger involuntary responses in my lower extremities.”

Damn him!

“By the way, just why are you so angry, Miss Turner?”

“Where do I start?” I growled.

“At the beginning.” Once again, his lips twitched, flashing a devious smile.

“Get. Off. Me.”

“As you wish,” he said, “but if you attack me again, I will not be so gentle. Although,” he paused for effect, “I am beginning to wonder if gentle is what you want.”

He rolled off, and I caught my breath. When I sat up, he was once again seated in the dark corner, calmer than an early morning breeze.

“Now, Miss Turner—”

“What happened last night?” I demanded.

“You fainted. I brought you here.”

“Is that all?” I asked.

He shrugged his dark, silky brows. “What do you think happened?”

I looked away. Okay. Maybe that sexual episode had been just a dream—a relief—but there was still the matter of everything else.

I rallied a bit of courage and met his intimidating stare head on. “Why did you bring me to Palenque, King?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“Enough!” Of course, my anger only seemed to amuse him. “You promised to help me find Justin, but you made me sit in that empty office for three weeks. Then you dragged me to the jungles of Mexico in the middle of the night, only to scare the shit out of me.”

My mind quickly flashed back to that ruin from the previous night. Wait. I did know it. The damned thing was the Temple of the Cross. Justin had sent pictures of it, and it was a well-known tourist attraction.

Not Justin’s dig site…Oh Lord. I covered my face. King is just messing with me.

“You brought me here to see how far you could push me, didn’t you?” I seethed.

He leaned forward in his chair and rested his forearms over the tops of his thighs. That’s when I noticed he wore jeans and a black T-shirt. A leather cuff, with several small buckles and about three inches wide, obscured most of his tattoo.

“You think I have time for petty games, Miss Turner? I brought you here because we have work to do.”

“What work?”

He stood and crossed the small distance to where I sat on the floor. “Get up.”

I didn’t like staring at his knees—made me feel like I was groveling —so I did what he asked. “I’m up, King. Now what?”

The man moved like a hungry viper and gripped my wrist. The veins in his muscular arms bulged with tension.

“Ow!” I tried to pull away, but he had the strength of ten vices. He flipped over my left wrist to expose the tender underside. I looked down at a black circle with the letter “K” boldly written in script in the center. The pale flesh was raised and red, like a fresh scrape.

“You tattooed me?”

“It’s for your own protection.”

“Are you insane?”

He leaned down to whisper in my ear. “What would you like me to say, Mia? That I own you? Every inch of you? That even those dark spaces inside your head belong to me? Because they do. You are mine now.”