. . . and then Lander pulls back so that now only the tip of his erection is inside me. Again I try to buck my hips, but he holds me off. He’s toying with me, making me ache as he pulls out and then pushes in just a little farther. Again I want to look away—to deny that this desire is real—but I don’t. I watch him as my own breathing turns into a pant. Again he pulls out before pushing in just a bit more. The light in his eyes is impish, playful.

“Please,” I say again, my body now screaming for release. “Please . . . more.”

He pauses for just a heartbeat, and then with intense force he thrusts deep inside me, over and over, setting my whole universe on fire.

Enemy.

He releases my arms and I dig my nails into his shoulders, run them roughly down his back, trying to recapture some of that anger, just a bit of my resolve.

This man is my enemy.

“So you are a warrior,” he says softly, and in an instant he pulls away. Before I can protest he turns me on my side as he sits up, back on his knees, straddling my left thigh and raising my right leg over his shoulder. With focused power he enters me again, rotating his hips so that every nerve ending inside me feels the impact. His name bursts from my lips and I quickly cover my mouth with my hand as if I can somehow take it back.

“Look at me,” he reminds me. “See me.”

The request has a note of vulnerability, and yet as I meet his eyes I know he’s the one in control. In control of my body and, in this moment, my mind. In this moment he is everything.

This man. My enemy.

Again I touch his chest, feel the thin layer of sweat, and watch him as he watches me . . . as he brings me back to the brink.

He whispers my name as I cry out again, this time to God, as my whole body spasms against him, responding to him as he grips my leg with one hand, as he touches my face, as he holds my gaze while he climaxes, as he again calls out that name . . .

. . . Bellona.

In a moment he collapses by my side. We both look up at the ceiling, breathless, his scent on my skin, mine on his. Right now everything’s mixed up like that, everything’s upside down and backward . . . and yet, in this moment, upside down and backward feels disturbingly good.

I reach over, take his hand.

“Please,” I whisper, “call me Bell.”

chapter four

Seconds turn to minutes as we lie next to each other, embracing the silence. I watched him watching me as I was touched, as I was entered, as I came for him . . .

. . . and now I can’t meet his eyes.