Aries

by Gemma James

  I don’t have a choice. Something has to give because he can’t kiss me the way he did then ignore me the entire month of my stay in his house. I rap on the wood, my knuckles hitting harder than I intended. He flings the door open, and I slip past him, entering his formidable domain.

  “Do you know how to play chess?”

  His question catches me off-guard, and I whirl to face him, eyes wide in disbelief. “Chess, as in the game?”

  A smile quirks on his lips. “Yes.”

  “I thought you called me in here to punish me.”

  “Oh, I did.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Answer the question. Do you play?”

  “Yes.” Not very well, but I don’t divulge that information. He’s already got enough advantage on me.

  “Shall we?” He gestures toward the table in front of the French doors where a game of chess awaits. As we each settle into a seat across from the other, I study him, trying to figure out what his true game is.

  Because there’s no way it’s chess.

  Since I’m sitting on the side with the white pieces, I take the first turn by moving a pawn forward two squares. “Your move, Chancellor.”

  He brings a pawn forward. “You’re craving my hand today, aren’t you, my sweet girl?”

  The thought of his warm palm on my bare ass does strange things low in my belly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Moving a knight, I feign innocence.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He follows my lead, and his knight jumps over one of his pawns. “You’re getting mouthy with me because you’re upset over the distance I’ve put between us.”

  “How intuitive of you.” I slide out another pawn.

  “You feel rejected.”

  “That’s not true.”

  It really is true, and I hate myself for the weakness. I didn’t expect to feel this way, but I do, and it’s causing chaos in my head. We advance several more pawns, losing casualties along the way, and then I move my queen, paying no attention to strategy.

  When it comes to him I have no strategy.

  His castle takes my queen.

  He settles back in his seat, chin resting on his fist. “Take your time.”

  Letting out a sigh of frustration, I weigh my options. I could take his queen in two moves, but he’d only block it. The seconds tick past as I study the board, searching for a winning course of action I haven’t yet found.

  His patience is never-ending. He sits in that chair as if he owns it—because he does, and he owns me in this game. Just as I’m about to move my bishop, he breaks the silence.

  “If you win, I’ll make you come.”

  His promise tingles through my limbs, stirring excitement in my veins and flooding hot liquid to the apex of my thighs. I raise my gaze to his, taken aback by the desire in those sexy brown eyes.

  “Are you trying to distract me?”

  He shrugs. “Just providing incentive.”

  The promise of his hands on me is motivation enough…if I thought I could win.

  But I won’t, and he knows it.

  “You tease me, Chancellor.”

  His mouth twitches at the purposeful slip-up. “I’ve got you in two moves.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I know how to play the game, Novalee.”

  He sure does. He brought me in here to dangle the forbidden fruit in front of me, only to yank it out of reach. I send my knight jumping two squares forward and one to the right, and just as he promised, he puts me in check. There’s only one spot for my king to go.

  And after I take my turn it’s game over, because he has me cornered.

  “Is this your idea of punishment?” I move my king into inevitable surrender. “Watching me lose?”

  “We haven’t gotten to your punishment yet.” Liam slides his queen into position. “Mate.” His eyes tangle with mine, rife with heat. I fail to breathe, overcome by the seducing quiet between us.

  “You won,” I say with a hard swallow.

  “I did.” He rises, blatant longing playing on his face, and holds out a hand.

  I slide my palm along his, my body tingling from anticipation. I’m nervous and scared all at once. He’s not as put-together today, with his hair in slight disarray and cufflinks removed, sleeves pushed to the elbow. He leads me up the three short steps to the bed and orders me to bend over the end. As I drape the comforter, I’m acutely aware that this is where he sleeps.

  Alone.

  Probably naked.

  Does he pleasure himself between these sheets?

  Does he think of me when he does?

  “Spread your legs.”

  Heartbeat doing double time, I part my thighs. He lifts the back of my skirt, and I hear him suck in a breath.

  Because I’m not wearing panties.

  “Jesus, Novalee.”

  I want him to touch me. Badly. Obsessively. It’s all I’ve thought about for the last sixteen days while he shut himself away from me.

  Protecting us both, he claims.

  “Please,” I whisper, arching my spine.

  He splays his hand where my ass cheeks meet, the tips of his fingers dipping close to where I want them.

  So close.

  But he doesn’t move. His hot and heavy palm lingers on my bottom, just a tease. A promise. My heartbeat thunders in my ears, booming one…two…three times.

  Then he smacks my ass.

  There’s no yelp or cry of pain. Only a whimper of need as his palm connects with my flesh again, softly and with purpose, those fingers teasingly close to the spot that aches for him.

  I’m on fire, turning to ash for this man.

  “Please,” I say again as my limbs shake.

  “What are you begging for?”

  Everything.

  I can’t verbalize what I want, unable to form the words. Because they’re a foreign plea on my tongue.

  I want to come.

  He smacks me again, fingers grazing the wetness between my legs.

  He knows what I want, and he’s toying with me.

  I need to come.

  It’s rising inside me, as forceful as a tsunami. As tremendous as the sea itself.

  “Is this what you want, my sweet girl?” His fingers plunge, sliding through my arousal, and he holds them there as I writhe.

  “More,” I groan.

  His thumb pushes against my anus, adding enough pressure to make me go still. He’s cupping me, refusing to give me more. His torso blankets my back, and he yanks my head up by the hair.

  “How quickly you forget. You lost the game.”

  “Please,” I whine, unable to take in a full breath.

  Not with the way my heart gallops.

  Not so long as his fingers press against my clit, unmoving. A relentless taunt.

  I choke out his name, and he shudders, breath hot and raspy on my neck.

  “You don’t know the level of control I’m clinging to right now.” Slowly, his thumb invades my backside, burning…burning…

  I whimper again, this time from pain.

  “You’re sexier than any woman I’ve been with. Fully innocent and too damn responsive. I know what the glove of your mouth feels like, Novalee.” His thumb gains another inch, and I cry out in agony. “My cock is dying to know what this feels like too.”

  “Stop!”

  Immediately, he pulls away. For several moments, I brace against the bed, chest heaving, terrified by what he implied as his thumb violated my ass. Footsteps thud across the room. A chair scrapes the floor. I push off the mattress and face him.

  “Some of my brothers won’t stop.” Darkness shrouds his gaze, accompanied by a crease of anger between his brows. “They’ll use your ass, and there isn’t a thing I can do to stop them, Novalee.”

  His statement shakes me to the core, spoken with harsh truth and a hint of helpless frustration, and I almost crumble. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  Aba
ndoning his chair and the distance between us, he frames my face in his warm hands. “But you must. Our time together is dwindling fast. I need you to behave yourself. Heath won’t tolerate your attitude.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “You’ll do more than try.” His voice thickens, deep with a warning. “Because the next time you speak to me with such disrespect, I won’t leave you with a throbbing pussy—I’ll leave welts on your ass. Is that clear?”

  Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them back. “Y-yes.”

  “You may return to your quarters. You’re to stay there until dinner.”

  Chapter Eight

  Liam’s threat plays in my head on a nerve-wracking loop. His harsh words struck me in the heart, bringing about an inescapable melancholy that’s only exacerbated by the rain. I try to escape my impending reality by visiting the boutiques on the main part of the island with my ladies.

  The thing about reality? It’s rarely avoidable.

  So is the rain attacking in a torrential downpour. The relentless precipitation has been a steady annoyance for days. We return to the tower drenched and all shopped-out. The bodyguard Liam insisted on—a stoic man with muscled arms and a thick neck—opens the door of the main entrance, and my ladies and I spill inside, dripping rainwater everywhere.

  “Today wasn’t the best day for an outing,” Faye says, letting the bags she’s holding drop to her feet.

  “It’s as good a day as any.” Elise sets the rest of our haul on the floor. “Jerome says it rains at least 250 days out of the year here.”

  Jerome is the wealthy businessman who’s been courting Elise for the last few weeks.

  Faye rolls her eyes. “Jerome this and Jerome that.”

  Elise shoots her a rare scowl. “You don’t have to be catty about it.”

  “Sorry,” Faye says, sheepish. “I’ll try to rein it in.”

  Selma appears from the kitchen. “The chancellor would like to see you in the library,” she tells me as she hands out towels to the three of us.

  “Do you know why he requested to see me?”

  “It’s not a request. I don’t know his reasons.”

  I dry my hair, patting down the combination of strands and braids, and a tingle of wary excitement rushes through me. Ever since our chess game, things have become more strained, teeming with undeniable sexual tension. He hasn’t sought me out at all.

  Until now.

  I part ways with my ladies and take the journey down the long hallway. My dress sticks to my skin from the rain, but I forgo a trip to the penthouse to change first, much too eager to see Liam. As I pass the portraits of the Brotherhood’s ancestors, the portrayal of Evangeline Castle draws my focus. What must it have been like to be in her position, locked away and used by twelve men? Did she grow to love any of them?

  One?

  Two?

  Three or more?

  I can’t fathom falling in love with two men, but I can’t deny I’m attracted to both Liam and Sebastian.

  The latter makes zero sense.

  I turn down another hallway, and that’s when I realize I took a wrong turn. As if my thoughts conjured his presence, Sebastian’s raspy timbre filters into the hall from an ajar door on the left.

  “Fucking gorgeous, Mona.”

  A feminine voice murmurs something in response, words indiscernible, and I slow my steps, drawn to what lies beyond that door. Every bone in my body bids me to keep going, to not look into that room and lay eyes on him. To not give him another opportunity to unleash his cruelty on me.

  Apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment. Holding my breath, I peek around the edge of the doorframe, and the depraved sight before my eyes knocks the air from my lungs. Breath escapes me in a silent whoosh.

  A woman is spread out on a lounge, her deep burgundy locks flowing over creamy, bare breasts. It’s the pose that has me in a trance. Her legs are bent, splayed in repose, the shaven lips of her womanhood on proud display. She’s without shame or modesty, and something about her confidence calls to me.

  Sebastian has his back to me as he transfers the likeness of her onto his canvas, and I can’t help but study the broadness of his shoulders, or the way his dark blond hair sticks up in dishevelment.

  He’s the polar opposite of Liam.

  Brazen where the chancellor is reserved.

  Carefree instead of controlled.

  Unrestrained sexy compared to Liam’s more classic dark looks.

  Sebastian’s low-slung jeans steal my attention as his brush hits the canvas with confident strokes. The man paints as well as he fills out a pair of jeans.

  “Bash,” the woman says, and when I turn my attention back to her, I find her deep brown eyes on me. She points in my direction, and Sebastian turns around before I can duck into the hall.

  The instant his blue eyes meet mine, I’m frozen, caught red-handed, cheeks hot with embarrassment. A lifetime seems to pass in the lock of our gazes. My pulse speeds up. His brows narrow. I run the tip of my tongue along the seam of my mouth, and when his attention stalls on my lips, I can’t help but tuck the bottom one between my teeth.

  He frowns, sets down the paintbrush, and that’s when I spring into motion, darting down the hall as fast as my jittery legs will carry me.

  But footsteps chase me, accompanied by deep and harsh breaths. A large, warm hand clamps around my bicep and yanks me to a stop. I turn slowly, every tortuous beat of my heart sounding-off in my ears as I face the accusation in his brilliant stare.

  “Did you get a good eyeful?”

  “I-I didn’t mean—”

  “Didn’t mean to spy on me?” he cuts in, invading my personal space. He’s not as tall as Liam, but his presence is overbearing enough. As I try to retreat, his fingers dig into my arm, making escape impossible.

  “I wasn’t spying.”

  “Does Liam know you’re down here?”

  “Yes.” Though I’m sure the chancellor wouldn’t be happy to find us in our current position—his hand gripping my bicep as my bosom heaves against his chest.

  The furrow between Sebastian’s brows deepens. “I’m surprised he let his little pet roam free.”

  “He requested my presence in the library.”

  “This wing is off-limits to you. It’s reserved for my public studio.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Well now you know.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “Make sure it doesn’t.” He lets go of my arm, and I miss the warmth of his touch, which is crazy because he’s treated me with nothing but disdain every time we’ve crossed paths.

  But I can’t deny I’m alive from the intensity in his gaze, the seriousness of his brow, the way he’s clenching those large hands. I imagine them gripping my thighs and flush even hotter.

  What is wrong with me?

  It’s not like me to become so tongue-tied in the company of a man.

  But maybe that’s the problem—Sebastian isn’t some average guy standing in front of me. He’s one-hundred percent alpha with a legal and binding claim on my life.

  He’s the kind of man who paints naked women for fun.

  And in four months, he’ll have total dominion over my body.

  A shudder tears through me, laden with arousal at the unwelcome thought. As if he senses my reaction to his nearness, he steps forward again, crowding my personal space. Inch by inch, he pushes me against the wall. My spine bumps against cold stone, and I gasp as something hard presses into my thigh.

  Sebastian is sporting an erection, and though he was just painting an attractive nude woman not five minutes ago, I’m positive his hard-on is for me.

  “You might as well make yourself useful since you interrupted my session,” he says, voice a sexy murmur as he sifts my blond locks through his fingers.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Provide me with a little inspiration.” His body is hard against mine, tempting my soft curves to mold to the contour of his
muscles, the planes of his abs.

  I stare at his lips. “I’m not taking my clothes off for you.”

  “You could wear your hair instead. It’s amazing.”

  The compliment is unexpected, and I stutter out a thank you.

  “I’ve wanted to paint you from the moment I first saw you.”

  I blink, and in that millimeter of a second, I imagine myself sprawled in front of him like the woman he left in the other room. No clothing, legs open to his gaze as he captures how he sees me on canvas with bold, sure strokes.

  No exam bench or hostility.

  No other men.

  But would he see me as a girl or a woman? Something tells me he’d see me as the latter.

  “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Would you spread your legs and let me paint your cunt, princess?” His eyes are alight with amused curiosity, but the vulgarity of his words spark the opposite in me.

  “Let me go,” I demand, pushing against his chest.

  The amusement fades from his expression, and he separates himself from me in the space of a second.

  As if I burned him.

  “Forgive me,” he says. “For a moment there, I thought your fully formed tits meant you’d grown out of the child queen I met six years ago.”

  Indignation takes hold of me. The last thing I want is for him to see me as a child. “I’m eighteen now.”

  “Like I said. A child.”

  I resist the urge to stomp my feet and argue with him, as I’m sure that sort of behavior will only prove his point. “You’re insufferable. Why do you have to be such a jerk?”

  With a sigh, he takes another step away from me. “It’s in my DNA, princess. You’re too innocent to see it for what it is.”

  “I’ll kindly remind you I’m a queen.”

  His lips twitch with renewed amusement. “No reminder needed. I’ve got plenty of pressure from my family to ensure a marriage to you.”

  “You don’t sound happy about it.”

  “I’ve accepted it.”

  “Am I not what you expected?”

  His gaze travels the length of my body, heating me all over again. “No, my queen. I expected a prim and proper child less appealing than a nun. What you are is innocence wrapped in the body of a porn star.”

  I grit my teeth. Rising to his bait will only heighten the tension between us because Sebastian is fire and passion rolled into one impossibly gorgeous, unstable male. Movement catches my attention, and a glance over his shoulder reveals his gorgeous subject standing in the doorway of his studio, her body wrapped in a black satin sheet.