He yanked at the ropes binding her hands and then gently picked her up from the couch so he could unwind the rest of the rope.
He couldn‘t—wouldn’t—meet her eyes. He was too afraid of what he’d see. He’d used her. He’d hurt her. He wanted to die.
When the last of the rope fell away, he hastily arranged his pants and then pulled her into his arms. Her heart beat against his body like a little baby bird trying to fly for the first time. Erratic. A little frantic.
He smoothed a hand over her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“I’m so sorry, Angel girl. I never meant to hurt you. I’m so damn sorry. Are you all right? Did I ...” He swallowed hard. “Did I do any damage? Jesus, I didn’t even use a condom. Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”
No words had ever hurt him more, but he owed it to her not to shy away from what he’d done. He deserved to have his ass kicked and thrown in jail.
Angelina stirred in his arms and pulled away so she could look up at him. What he saw shattered him. Trust. Still shining in her soft eyes. His gut twisted into a huge knot that threatened to suffocate him.
“You didn’t hurt me,” she said gently. “I’ve never orgasmed so hard in my life.”
She’d come? It shamed him to admit that he hadn’t given a moment’s thought to her pleasure or care. He’d been a mindless fucking machine only intent on gaining relief from his torment.
She reached up to touch his face, her fingers trailing over his cheekbone until finally she cupped his jaw.
“You only did what I asked you to do, Micah. How is that wrong?”
“You’re too sweet, too generous and too damned naive,” he growled. “Where are your clothes?”
She pointed to a chair a few feet away where her jeans, underwear, shirt and shoes were. He stalked over and then returned with everything.
As gently and as patiently as he knew how, he dressed her, taking care not to abrade the bruised parts of her body. Every time he saw a fingerprint, or the red area where the ropes had dug into her skin, he felt sick.
Finally he handed her the shoes, and she slipped them on.
“Let’s go home, Angel. You need someone to take care of you tonight.”
She smiled faintly. “I love the way that sounds coming from you.”
CHAPTER 9
Angelina barely had time to park her car before Micah opened her door and urged her out. To her utter shock, he swept her up into his arms and started carrying her toward the door to his apartment.
“Micah, I can walk,” she said with a laugh.
He ignored her and kept walking. Not really wanting to argue the point, because she was in his arms after all, she sighed and snuggled into his chest.
Exhaustion beat at her temples, and her limbs felt heavy and laden. She wanted to sleep for about twelve hours, preferably in Micah’s arms, but she wasn’t fooling herself over that possibility.
He was horrified over what happened. The guilt in his eyes made her gut clench. For a guy who prided himself on his iron control, what had happened wasn’t just a presumed betrayal of her but also of himself.
She couldn’t feel bad, though. She’d never reach him as long as that control was in place. And she still shivered over the raw power he exhibited when he’d taken her.
Taken her. It seemed so tame a term to describe it. He’d owned her. Possessed her. She’d been completely and utterly his, his possession to do what he wanted with.
Desire and lust simmered and burned low in her abdomen despite her thinking she couldn’t possibly be aroused again.
She’d loved his touch. His power. The way he hadn’t asked. He’d simply taken what he deemed his.
She shivered again as he elbowed his way into the apartment.
“Are you cold?” he asked in concern.
She shook her head. “No, just remembering.”
He stiffened, and the tortured look returned to his face. She started to correct his assumption that it was a bad remembrance for her, but he set her down on the couch and immediately went about removing her shoes.
“I’m going to go start a hot shower for you,” he said in a low voice. “It’ll make you feel better. Take your time. Are you hungry? Do you want me to fix you something to eat?”
She smiled. “The shower sounds heavenly, and no, I’m not hungry.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
She watched him stride away, his face creased into lines of worry. With a sigh, she sank against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. Always, always she’d known that sex with Micah would be nothing short of amazing.
She craved that darker edge, the thin line between right and wrong. He was all she wanted, and she wanted him as he was—dark, brooding, unapologetic—not as he thought he should be. She wanted to be his.
Angel?”
She opened her eyes to see Micah standing over her, concern bright in his eyes.
“Are you sure you’re okay? I can still take you to the hospital. Are you hurting anywhere?”
Boy, were they going to have a long talk when she got out of the shower. This guilt complex was quickly fraying her nerves.
She reached out so he could help her up, and he quickly took her hand and gently pulled her to a standing position. Ignoring his question entirely, she went toward the bathroom, her need for gallons and gallons of hot water outweighing her desire to kick Micah’s ass.
The bathroom mirrors were already fogged up, and she let out a blissful sigh as she stripped down and stepped into the shower. For a long moment she stood in the spray, eyes closed as she relieved the sensation of Micah’s hands on her, his cock inside her and the most intense orgasm of her life. She’d lit up like a firecracker the moment he thrust into her. She’d started coming and hadn’t stopped until he’d found his own quick release.
Realizing she’d spent a long time in the shower and Micah was probably wearing a hole in the carpet in the living room, she turned off the water and stepped out to dry off. She’d just gotten the towel wrapped around her when the door opened and Micah stuck his head in.
After a quick glance, presumably to see if she was halfway decent, he shoved into the small bathroom.
“You were taking a long time. I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said gruffly.
With a sigh she let the towel drop so that she stood nude before him. He took a hasty step backward, and she almost rolled her eyes. It wasn’t as though she was going to jump him.
“I’m fine. See?”
She turned in a circle so he could see her body for himself.
She couldn’t control the quiver when his fingers brushed across a faint bruise on her hip.
“I bruised you,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.
“I bruise very easily, Micah. You didn’t hurt me.”
When she’d turned back around fully, he took her hands and turned her wrists over. His thumb rubbed across the red lines left by the ropes, and his expression grew stormy.
“They tied them too tight. There was no need for them to hurt you. I should have stepped in and put a stop to it all.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked curiously.
He swallowed and looked away. Then he reached for the towel and carefully wrapped it around her.
“Go get something on. You can borrow my robe if you want. There’s a lot we need to talk about, and it can’t wait.”
She frowned at the urgency in his voice and reached for the robe hanging on the towel rack.
“I’ll be in the living room. Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”
“Go,” she said, shooing him with her hands.
He backed out of the bathroom, and Angelina dropped the towel to put her robe on, shaking her head the entire time. She gave her hair a thorough rub before she did a quick comb-through to rid it of tangles.