He didn’t stop—he couldn’t. He couldn’t take away her pain, but he could try to make it better. Her grip of his hair tightened just before her knees buckled and she knelt before him. As he fought to focus, the vision before him filled with emerald green. The knife no longer twisted. Hell, the world no longer turned. Tony could die as long as the last thing he saw was her eyes.
“You’re mine.” He hadn’t planned on staking his claim, but once the words were out, he didn’t try to retract them.
“Tony, bed… please?”
“I’m trying so hard. You have no idea of the restraint I’m enlisting.” His thoughts went back to Baldwin. Had the two of them ever been like this? He clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and fought to keep the red at bay. “Yet all I can think about are his hands on you.”
“Tony, I’m fine. I’m all right. I’m with you.”
“But you weren’t. You were with him.”
“He just wanted your money—”
Pulling her closer, his voice hardened, and he bathed her cheeks in warm, whiskey-scented breath. “I’m not talking about Chester!”
There, he’d said it. The truth was out. Without doubt, he was a selfish bastard, and the idea of Claire being with anyone else filled him with palpable anguish. Before Tony could look away, Claire’s hands framed his face.
Her voice was a melody, contrasting the tirade in his head. “I wasn’t with you. We weren’t together.”
The sound that came from his throat was unintentional. Truthfully, he’d tried to remain silent, yet Claire’s words didn’t make sense. They’d always been together.
She continued, “But now…” Her lips touched his. “Now, I want to be. Please, Tony.”
Thoughts weren’t forming with any kind of reasoning. The only thing Tony knew, with one hundred percent certainty, was that he wanted her. He wanted her more than he wanted air. If she wanted that too, all walls were down. Could she handle it? Could she handle him—the real him? It was now or never. No more pretenses, no holding back. This would be the real him, raw and uncensored. Claire would either run for her life or be his for eternity. It was too late to turn back.
As Tony’s fingers seized her loose, damp hair, his mind told him to be gentle; however, gentle fell off of Tony’s radar many shots ago. He couldn’t turn down his desire if he wanted, and at this moment, he didn’t want to. Pulling her head back, he exposed her slender neck. With little concern for his ferocity, his lips attacked the soft skin as a shocked moan escaped her lips. She’d asked for this, but was she ready? He needed to know. “Are you sure?”
He didn’t pause or wait for her answer; instead, with one hand still entangled in her long, dark hair and the other pulling her closer, he continued to claim the woman before him.
Finally, her words rose above the internal mayhem. “I am.”
All indecision was gone. The world was no longer red, yet it wasn’t clear. Tony wasn’t thinking anything through… everything was visceral and primal. Claire belonged to him.
Yes, she could be her own woman. It was true: Tony liked her independent spirit. However, in the grand scheme, that was irrelevant. All that mattered was that she was his—wholly and completely. As Tony gave in to his desires, he knew one of two things would occur. When the night was done, Claire would either be his like never before, or she’d leave him behind and life would cease to exist. Stopping now wasn’t an option. Continuing his unrelenting claim, he held her tighter pulling her against his chest. Their hearts beat together as he wildly repossessed everything before him. His words come out like a growl, “You are mine.”
When he released her hair, Claire’s lips touched his neck and her hands caressed his shoulders. He couldn’t contain the rumble from the back of his throat as he tried to think, tried to reason. Claire wasn’t fighting—she was responding. Hell, she wasn’t just responding. She was seducing him. Did she truly know what he was offering?
It was love and it was forever.
Tony loved Claire more than he could articulate; however, they both knew, his love wasn’t all wine and roses. He was damaged. Chalk it up to a screwed-up childhood, blame it on tragedies—the cause was irrelevant. Tony was a sick son-of-a-bitch who had certain requirements. Claire needed to decide if she was willing to submit to his requirements and follow his rules. This was her last out, the last chance. If she didn’t run now, he would never let her go.
Tugging once again on her hair, she gasped as he tipped her head until their eyes met. The gaze before him was stunning. In those eyes, he’d seen fear and love. Tonight, he saw passion, a heat that threatened any remnants of restraint he might still possess.
Laying it all on the table, he demanded, “Say it!”
Behind the passion and fire, her confusion surfaced. Tony explained, “Say you’re mine and nobody else’s.”
Claire’s confusion melted into green pools of desire. Her voice resonated above the sound of their breathing and the frantic beating of their hearts. “Yes, Tony, you are mine and nobody else’s.”
He stared. What did she just say? You are mine and nobody else’s.
Tony tried to focus. It wasn’t what he wanted; it wasn’t what he expected, yet it was perfect. Claire was more than he deserved and a hell of a lot stronger than he’d ever known. No other woman could or would accept him. No one ever had. Not that he’d tried. The realization struck him with a tremendous force. Claire Nichols not only knew what she was getting herself into, but she wanted it. She wanted him.