Alyssa arched, grabbed the sheets, and screamed as ecstasy coalesced and exploded, setting her entire body on fire.

God, only Luc could do this to her.

While she still pulsed with aftershocks, he parted her folds with his thumbs and delved inside again with his tongue. She gasped, spread her legs wider. Luc knew exactly how to make her need him again.

He fastened on her clit once more, blowing her mind, ramping her up toward another orgasm that shouldn’t have been possible, but was instead imminent. The slope up was faster, steeper, more wrenching.

She was drenched now, dripping. So swollen, she could feel her nipples puckering, her folds engorging. But this time, Luc kept her on the knife’s edge, orgasm just a heartbeat away. Arching, wriggling, she tried everything to make his wicked tongue send her straight into bliss, but he anchored her to the bed with a hand on her hip. “I say when.”

Everything inside her clenched in denial. She needed it—needed him—now. “What are you doing to me?”

“Making sure you know your body is mine and mine alone.” A determined glint smoldered in his dark eyes.

She was no man’s possession or toy. But . . . desire racked her. It had become eloquent torture knotting her belly as he plunged his fingers inside her again. Alyssa cried out as he teased her clit with his tongue. The man wanted her to lose her mind. And he was about to succeed.

When he replaced his finger with his thumb and eased his drenched digit into her anus, she clenched around him and moaned.

“You are so fucking sexy.” Luc pumped his fingers into her simultaneously. The wild sensation scorched her, and every nerve ending begged for climax.

He sucked on her clit again, this time harder than the last, even as his fingers filled her up. And it was . . . Oh, God, a madness of pleasure that threatened to implode her. Where was her determination to leave now? Her will to resist him until they worked through their issues? Like the perfect storm, demand raged inside her, fueled by anger, fear, love, need. It grew into a fathomless, sucking swirl. His every touch sizzled like lightning. Ecstasy, pure and white-hot, was upon her. Alyssa’s eyes flew open wide, connecting with Luc’s commanding gaze. Wide shoulders, insistent hands, haunted eyes.

Mine, his stare said.

Yours, her soul silently answered.

The floodgates of pleasure burst open in a torrential flood. As satisfaction crashed over her, she felt dizzy, couldn’t breathe. Black spots danced at the edge of her vision. She cried out, thighs tense, womb pulsing. What Luc gave her was brilliant and endless. And should give him absolutely no doubt that he owned her.

Damn him.

And as soon as he let up, eased away, she also realized that what he’d given her was one-sided. As he stood and tore into his own shirt, Alyssa knew that, in his mind, they were nowhere near done.

Now that the need to come wasn’t pressing down on her, she saw that he’d derailed their discussion and sought to control her using sex.

Oh, hell, no.

She grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around her. “Stop. We are not doing this now. There’s too much to discuss, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to accuse me of fucking Tyler in one breath, then demanding I fuck you in the next.”

“You want to put me off after I just found you in another man’s bed?” he snapped, straddling her, flattening her back to the mattress. “Like hell.”

Then he ripped Tyler’s T-shirt into long strips of material, wrapping them around her wrists and knotting them securely.

What the fuck was he doing? Was he . . . No!

“Luc, let me up!” Fear zipped through her bloodstream, along with a sick spike of adrenaline. “Let me go!”

“You’re going to stay here with me until you remember who the hell you’re married to. Then we’re going to talk until I get the whole goddamned ugly truth.”

Scowling, he dragged her wrist to the headboard and grabbed the edges of the cotton bracelet, knotting it around the iron.

He meant to tie her down. Put her at his mercy. Oh, God.

“Luc! Don’t do this . . .” Icy panic assailed her as she writhed and bucked beneath him. He didn’t budge. “Please don’t!”

He completely ignored her. His body was an anchor pinning her to the mattress as he reached for her other wrist and tied the material to the headboard. She struggled, but Luc was a hundred times stronger.

Alyssa began to sweat. Cold fear again crashed to her stomach, and she feared she was going to throw up. As he secured her other wrist, immobilizing her arms, pure terror scraped her system.

Alyssa thrashed and screamed, “Luc, please! Don’t do this. Don’t . . .”

She tried to hold in her sobs, stay calm, but with each second she was immobile and at his mercy, terror grew.

“Don’t what? Make sure you stay here long enough to be honest with me? You can’t spend the day with your lover, worry me sick, then tell me to fuck myself. Refuse me your pretty body that drives me insane with need every damn day and night.”

“Tyler is not my lover! He never has been. I know you don’t believe me, but please . . .” That fact, along with her edge of fear, crushed her defenses, cracked her heart open. “Just let me up. Let me go,” she sobbed.

“Back to Tyler? No.”

Alyssa forced herself to look up into his face and flinched when she saw the barely restrained wrath and bleak determination tighten his angular face. “We can’t stay like this. Let me go. Please.”

Her pleas didn’t affect him. His eyes burned her face, trailed down to her breasts, rested on her abdomen. When his stare returned to her face, he seethed with possessive anger that made her pulse jump with dread and fear.

“I can’t.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrists and swooped down toward her. “You’re my wife, damn it. That’s going to mean something to you.”

What? That he could force her to have sex anytime he wanted? “Luc, no!”

Alyssa barely got the sound out before he slanted his mouth over hers. His tongue plundered, his lips crushing hers, and she tasted herself on his lips. Desperation, fury, intent all swirled in his kiss. He wanted her. She feared he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

His hands tightened on her wrists, his grip biting as he took the kiss deeper.

The defenses she’d built up over the months and years to block out the worst of her memories fell out from under her. She was fifteen again, too trusting. Too innocent to understand that her life was about to change forever.

She shivered and struggled, doing anything, everything, to throw the hard male weight off her, smothering her, hurting her. The agony was coming, she knew. God, how would she survive something that horrific all over again?

Panic chilling her to her marrow, Alyssa bit Luc’s lip. He pulled away, clutching his mouth.

“No! Don’t do this. Please, God, don’t do this. I can’t—” Then against her will, she dissolved into sobs. “Don’t hurt me.”

Her pleas broke through his rage. Luc leapt off her instantly, all lust gone from his face. Concern replaced it. “Hurt you, sugar?”

Tears stung her eyes, scalded their way down her cheeks as she turned herself on her side, as much as her bound wrists allowed, and curled her legs up to her chest. “Please let me go.”

She hadn’t even finished the plea before Luc’s fingers were at the knots, releasing one, then the other. And she was free.

Shooting him a stare full of accusation, and pain, she ran to the bathroom.

“Alyssa!” he shouted, concern urgent in his voice.

When she didn’t respond, she heard the frightening rush of his footsteps behind her and kept running.

Finally reaching the bathroom, she slammed the door before he could barge his way in, and she locked it behind her. Safe . . . for the moment. What would she do if he didn’t go away?

Leaning against the cold wood, she panted, her past still flashing in her head, reminding her of horror and pain. But this was another day, another man. Would Luc really have hurt her?

Maybe she’d overreacted. She’d certainly shown him her weakness. And if he hadn’t already, he’d quickly figure out just how damaged she was.

Sliding down the door until she huddled against it, Alyssa put her face in her hands and sobbed.

Chapter Sixteen

SHE was crying, and not simple tears. Not with mere guilt. Every sob sounded as if it ripped a new piece of her heart out, as if every dream she’d ever had had been crushed forever.

Luc’s stomach crashed to his toes.

“Sugar,” he implored with a soft knock. “Open the door. I’m so sorry. I lost my temper. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

No response, just more of the rending cries that clawed his gut with fear and regret. Feeling two inches tall, he leaned against the door, hands pressed to it, wishing like hell that he could reach through and comfort her. How could a few inches of wood separate them so completely, as if a continent of pain and regret stood between them?

“Talk to me, Alyssa.”

Under the door’s crack, he saw her sitting on the floor, huddled, and ran a frustrated hand down his face. What the hell had he done?

Jack’s lifestyle wasn’t his. Luc had never felt the need to tie up a woman, especially in anger. Whatever she might have done with Tyler, Alyssa had been hurt before. Raped. The terror on her face, the flashback to her past, had been a bitter slap of a reminder for Luc. The fact she could even mentally put him in the same category as the man who hurt her was the worst sort of pain. He felt like a thoughtless snake. Damn it.

“Sugar, please. I won’t hurt you. I won’t touch you. Just come out so we can talk.”

Silence. Then a sniffle and a shuffle. She got to her feet. His heart leapt, and hope seized him that she would open the door, hear him out. This time, he’d listen to her explanation about her time with Tyler. Even if it was exactly what he thought it was, he doubted Alyssa meant to hurt him. She had no idea he loved her. Maybe he should confess. Maybe they could talk through their problems and salvage everything.

Instead of removing the barrier between them, she walked away and started the shower.

He knocked again. No answer.

Long minutes passed. The spray of water was loud . . . but not enough to drown out the continued sobs that split the air and tore at his heart.

Calling to her wasn’t doing any good, and all this crying couldn’t be good for her or the baby. Her home had been viciously invaded and she’d been scared out of her mind both by an intruder and her own husband. He had to focus on that, had to reach her and persuade her to let him help.

Another jagged cry sounded over the water. God, she could hardly catch a breath. The sobs were coming faster now, each sounding more wrenching than the last. Luc couldn’t take it anymore.

Thanking God for Deke’s insistence that he know forms of self-defense, including martial arts, Luc gathered his energy, centered it, then kicked the bathroom door. With a crash and a splintering of wood, it gave in.

Behind the shower curtain, she gasped as the door lurched on its hinges and crashed against the wall.

Once inside, Luc didn’t hesitate. He yanked back the shower curtain. Inside, Alyssa sat on the shower bench under scalding water, steam rising around her. She’d curled her knees up to her chest, her teeth chattering viciously. She looked up at him with haunted blue eyes, mascara running down her face.

The sight kicked him in the stomach.

Swallowing his nerves, he climbed into the shower, clothes, shoes, and all. Hot water pelted him, plastering his hair to his shoulders and neck. He barely noticed. Instead, he lifted his wife into his arms. Thank God, she went without a fight.

Luc sat on the shower bench and set Alyssa in his lap. “I’m so sorry.”

She closed her eyes, stiffened. “I came home a little after four this morning to find the house had been broken into, called nine-one-one and Tyler. I didn’t call you. It was two in the morning in Los Angeles. There was nothing you could do.”

Her monotone voice sounded dead. Luc ached all over again for her.

“I’m listening.”

“Tyler examined the crime scene before Remy got there. While Tyler was looking around, I got sick, passed out.”

“What?” Luc tightened his arms around her.

“The paint fumes and perfume and shock, I guess. When I came to, I was in Tyler’s car and he was taking me to the emergency room. I told him I didn’t need to go. I just needed sleep.”

“Did he take you anyway?” Luc asked hopefully.

Alyssa shook her head. “I pleaded. He insisted that I eat something, and he can’t cook. So we went to that egg place not far from the club. After I’d eaten, I started cramping.”

“Like you’d eaten something bad? It usually takes longer for food—”

“No. Like menstrual cramps.”

Luc’s heart came to a screeching halt. “What?”

“I went to the restaurant’s bathroom.” She began sobbing again, nearly uncontrollably.