Siena’s breath caught as her back slammed against the wall, her palms pressing against his bare, wet chest. She tried to shove her husband away, but he caught both her wrists in one hand and pinned them high above her head, his hard, wet body pressing so close that not even air could pass between them, every sculpted ridge and groove searing against her own bare skin.
Her eyes flew wide, her body betraying her with the way it responded to him.
“What are—” she barely got the words out before his hot mouth crashed onto hers, claiming her parted lips in a hungry, possessive kiss.
Holy hell. She’d never been handled like this by a man—like the way she’d seen heroes claim their women in those movie or drama scenes. She used to wonder how a girl could possibly enjoy being manhandled, could ac
