Page 33 of Blood Red Rage

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again but no words came out because he was right and I hated him for it.

Viking finished removing the last of his clothes like he wasn’t standing in front of a woman who couldn’t think straight. Like he wasn’t a walking temptation with fangs. Like he didn’t look like he belonged on the prow of a ship with blood on his mouth and a kingdom burning behind him.

He takes another step toward the bath, which has my heart racing in anticipation as his now naked body glistens in the candlelight. His impressive cock teasing me with its readiness to penetrate my body, ensuring that I lose coherent thought when he’s around.

I jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Or what?”

I glared, furious because he knew I had no threat big enough to stop him, and then he slid into the bath. The water rose dangerously, heat shifting, his body pressing into the space like the tub had been built for him. My breath caught as his thigh brushed mine beneath the surface. Every nerve in my body flared. He settled back like a king, arms stretching along the rim of the tub, completely at ease. Looking so damn hot, which he is very aware of, completely shameless.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” he asks with a knowing grin.

“I’m not.”

His gaze drifted slowly down my face, to my mouth, then lower to below the water. The look in his eyes was almost lazy, but the hunger beneath it wasn’t.

“You’re lying,” he said.

My voice came out quieter. “Viking… I’m trying to be angry at you.”

His expression softened a fraction. “Be angry.”

Then his hand moved under the water, sliding around my waist. “And let me touch you anyway,” he murmured.

I sucked in a breath. “You can’t just…”

His mouth brushed my temple. “I can.”

My body trembled at the contact, traitorous and eager. I turned my head, glaring. “You’re a menace.”

He kissed my cheek. “Yes.”

Another kiss, closer. “And you like it.”

I shoved at his chest, though even I could feel how weak my attempt was. “Get out.”

He leaned in, mouth hovering over mine, and his voice dropped into something dark and sinful. “Make me.”

Oh, that did it. I swung my leg at him under the water like I was about to kick him out of the tub, but he caught me, of course he caught me. His grip locked around my calf, holding me still with humiliating ease. He dragged my leg across his lap, my knee bending, my body pulled open toward him.

My breath hitched violently.

“Viking,” I warned.

His eyes gleamed. “There’s that fire.”

He kissed me, hard, hot. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask permission. I made a sound into his mouth that I will deny until the day I die. My hands clutched at his shoulders, and suddenly the bath wasn’t warm anymore, it was boiling.

His mouth moved to my neck, kissing down slowly, deliberately, as if he could taste every part of me and intended to. My head fell back against the tub rim, a gasp ripping out of me when his teeth scraped lightly over skin.

Not biting but teasing, promising. “Beautiful,” he murmured against my throat. “So hot for me.”

I tried to speak but It came out as a broken breath.

He chuckled, the sound low and wicked. “You’re adorable when you pretend you don’t want me.”

“Shut up,” I managed.