strange, warm weight in his arms. He crossed the minimalist, brutally modern living area and u

anded, though she w

ms wrapped around his waist from behind, clinging with surprising strength. Her cheek

is jaw clench

chord deep inside him. Even in her drugged state, the actress within her knew how to convey utter helplessness. Her fumbling hands found

the fin

with his body, his hands flat on the cool wood on either side of her head, trapping her. Their bodies

feverish whispers, torn fabric, a

the suite's panoramic windows, paint

ery muscle in her new body ached with a deep, unfamiliar soreness. She blinked, he

harsh lines of his face were softened. His dark hair was a mess on the white pil

ensation and instinct. A wave of humiliation washed over her,

strategist. This was not a dis

st. Cassandra Laurent was a pawn, a victim thrown to the wolves

hile she sharpened her knives. This man, this cold, ruthless billionaire, wa

stantly by the cold, assessing look she was coming to recognize. There was no soft

r chest. She simply sat up, pulling the crisp linen over her

, but steady. "I assume

st watched her, his

she continued, putting a deliberate,

s more of a sneer. "Is this part of your act? P

nced otherwise. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, intending to stand, bu

let out a small, startled gasp, her hands flying to his shoulders. He ignored her, hi

idn't set her down gently. He stepped into the m

. All the

her under

reath. It was a punishment, a cleansing, an act of pure, contemptuous power. The last vestiges of the drug's heat an

ing down her face, her heart hammering not wi

me had