Chapter 146: Restraint r18

The engine beneath them roared, a deep, heavy vibration that rattled straight up through Isabella’s boots, into her spine, and settled like a hum deep in her stomach.

The cold night air whipped against her face, snapping the loose strands of her hair around her cheeks. She clung to Aaron’s waist, her fingers digging through the heavy leather of his jacket.

Every time the bike leaned into a sharp turn, her chest slammed flush against his broad back, pinning her tight to him.

She could feel the dense, solid heat of his body through the thick hide, smelling the sharp scent of sea salt, leather, and lingering tobacco smoke that clung to his clothes.

Her mind was a complete, chaotic mess.

Her lips still felt swollen. They throbbed with a dull, persistent heat, keeping the phantom memory of his mouth pressed against hers excruciatingly fresh.

She could still hear the low, rough sound he had made in the back of his throat right before he pulled away. He had stopped. That was what made her face burn with a sudden, humiliating heat in the cold wind.

He had set a limit, and he had enforced it with a cool, irritating discipline while she had been completely swept away, holding on to his shoulders like a starving woman.

She tightened her grip around his waist, her knuckles turning white inside her gloves. Then, realizing how tightly she was holding him, she immediately slackened her grip.

A split second later, Aaron revved the engine and pulled out to overtake a slow car. The sudden burst of speed made her heart jump into her throat, and before she could stop herself, her arms wrapped around him again, squeezing his waist for dear life.

She mentally cursed herself, burying her face into the cold leather between his shoulder blades.

Aaron felt the small, desperate hitch in her grip. Underneath his helmet, his jaw tightened. His blue eyes stayed fixed on the dark, winding coastal road ahead, but his mind wasn’t on the road.

It was on her.

He could feel every shift of her body against his. The soft press of her breasts against his back, the way her thighs clamped around his hips whenever he took a corner too fast, the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat pulsing through his spine.

Most men thought with their pride or their tempers. Aaron had spent his entire life gutting those useless urges out of himself. In his world, wanting something too much was a quick way to get put in the ground. You learned to keep your pulse slow, your hands steady, and your mind completely detached.

Except right now, his mind was a pitch-black pit of filthy, raw noise.

He didn’t just want to touch her. He wanted to break her open. He wanted to feel her delicate bone structure yield beneath his palms until she stopped trying to act like a proud, dignified lady.

He wanted to hear the exact moment her quiet, polished voice dissolved into breathless, pathetic begging. He wanted to drag his teeth over the sensitive skin of her throat, swallow her cries, and leave his mark so deep inside her that she’d never be able to stand up straight without remembering who owned her.

He was a monster, and he knew It. Behind the tailored suits, the calm manners, and the cold calculations, there was an animal that wanted to tear her apart.

But he wasn’t going to take it by force. Taking was cheap. Taking meant she was still fighting him on the inside.

He wanted her to hand it to him. He wanted Isabella Kingston, with all her stubborn pride, her aristocratic morals, and her burning hatred for men like him, to crawl into his lap and ask for it.

He wanted her to look at him with those blind green eyes and choose the corrupt, violent world he lived in because she couldn’t stand the hunger anymore.

And God help him, watching her fight against her own body was the most intoxicating thing he had ever seen.

The motorcycle pulled up to the private entrance of the penthouse. The engine died, dropping the world into a heavy, ringing quiet broken only by the tick of the cooling exhaust.

Aaron swung his leg over the bike and helped her down. His hands stayed on her waist a second longer than necessary, his thumbs pressing firmly through her dress, before he let go and led her inside.

The private elevator rode up in complete silence.

Isabella stood near the back wall, her hands folded tightly in front of her. The atmosphere inside the small metal box was suffocatingly thick.

It felt like the air before a lightning strike, heavy, charged, and warm. She kept her chin pointed straight ahead, willing her heart to slow down.

’That was it,’ she told herself firmly, her mind racing. ’The beach was just... a momentary slip. He was teasing me, and I fell for it.

That’s the end of it. Back inside, everything goes back to normal. I am a rational woman. I do not let a criminal make me act like an idiot.’

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open into the quiet, grand expanse of the penthouse.

Isabella stepped out first, her heels clicking softly on the polished hardwood. She took a deep breath, preparing to make some cool, detached remark about going straight to her room.

She didn’t even get the chance to take a second step.

A large, warm hand clamped firmly around her wrist. Before she could gasp, Aaron yanked her back. She stumbled, her breath catching in her throat, and then her spine slammed gently against the wall beside the entryway.

His massive frame stepped into her space immediately, blocking out the light, trapping her between his heavy body and the wall.

"Aaron—" she started, her voice breathy and high.

He didn’t let her finish. His mouth came down on hers with a sudden, devastating force that knocked the air straight out of her lungs.

It wasn’t like the kiss on the beach. There was no hesitation here, no slow teasing. His lips parted hers with greedy, possessive pressure, his tongue sliding deep into her mouth, taking total control of her breath, her senses, her entire body.

Isabella’s hands flew up to push him away, her palms hitting the hard, broad expanse of his chest. But the moment her fingers felt the thick muscle beneath his shirt, her self-control crumbled into dust. Instead of pushing, her fingers curled tightly into the fabric, pulling him closer. A small, helpless whimper escaped her throat, swallowed entirely by his mouth.

Her heightened senses were driving her crazy. Because she couldn’t see, everything else was amplified a hundred times over.

She could feel the rough scratch of his stubble against her chin, the dangerous, intoxicating scent of his cologne flooding her lungs, the hot, heavy press of his thigh sliding between hers, pinning her against the wall.

Her mind screamed at her to stop, to remember who she was, to remember that this man was dangerous. But her body didn’t care.

Her core throbbed with a sudden, agonizing heat, her thighs trembling as she lifted her chin, opening her mouth wider, kissing him back with a sudden, wild desperation that shocked even her.

Mid-kiss, Aaron growled into her mouth. He slid his hands down to her thighs, hooked his fingers into her dress, and hoisted her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all.

Isabella gasped, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to keep from falling. Her arms locked around his neck, her blind green eyes wide with sudden panic.

"What—what are you doing?" she managed to pant out, her breath ragged against his jaw.

Aaron carried her three quick steps over to the soft, deep leather couch, dropping his weight down and pulling her right into his lap. He didn’t let go of her legs, keeping her stranded over his hips, completely open to him.

"You still have three minutes left," he murmured, his blue eyes dark and wild as he looked up at her flushed face.

"You are—"

He didn’t give her the chance to insult him. His hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her face down, and swallowed her words in another hot, deep kiss.

Isabella was completely lost. The contrast between his raw, crushing strength and the strange, careful way his hands held her head was driving her out of her mind. She felt weak, utterly helpless against the sheer size of him, yet the feeling didn’t terrify her—it made a hot, heavy liquid feeling pool low in her belly.

His hands moved down her body, slow and heavy. They traced the curve of her waist, digging into her soft skin, before sliding up toward her ribs. His fingers slipped inside the loose neckline of her dress, moving directly over her thin lace bra.

When his large, warm thumb rubbed directly over her hardened nipple, Isabella let out a loud, shuddering gasp right into his mouth. Her back arched sharply, her fingers digging wildly into his blonde hair.

"Aaron..." she gasped out, her head falling back as his lips left her mouth to trace down her jaw, biting gently at the soft, sensitive skin of her neck.

"You’re shaking," he growled low against her skin, his thumb rolling over her peak again, teasing the tight, hard bud through the lace until she was practically squirming in his lap. "You like this, don’t you? My clean, dignified little heiress."

"Shut up," she hissed, her face burning with a mix of intense arousal and mortifying shame. "Shut up, Aaron, I swear—"

"You’re practically burning up," he rasped, ignoring her completely. His other hand slid down her thigh, dragging the fabric of her dress up until it gathered around her waist. His broad palm stroked over her bare skin, the heat of his touch making her muscles quiver.

He didn’t rush. He dragged his fingers up the smooth inside of her thigh, millimeter by millimeter, teasing her skin until his fingertips finally brushed against the silk of her panties.

The fabric was completely soaked.

Aaron let out a dark, quiet chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest right against hers. "Look at you. So proper, so rational... and you’re dripping for me."