“Shut your mouth.” He rolled them over, taking control with a sharp thrust into her heat, drawing a moan from low in her throat as the head of his cock butted against the end of her channel.

Fuck, she felt so good, so tight and wet, her inner walls fitting around him like a glove.

“I don’t want to shut my mouth.” She locked her ankles behind his back and clenched her thigh muscles, pulling him impossibly deeper. “You know I like to talk.”

“I’m not in the mood to listen,” he snapped, grabbing her legs behind the knees and forcing them up and out, until she was spread wide, completely vulnerable to him as he withdrew and slammed his cock back inside her, sending pain flickering across her features. “So keep quiet. Or I’ll find something to shut you up.”

“God, Clay.” Harley arched beneath him, grimacing as he fucked her so hard the flesh of her thighs rippled as he drove home again and again, the tension in his body building until the base of his spine burned and every nerve in his body was crackling with electricity. “Yes. Fuck me. Use me. Hurt me.”

With a growl of frustration he pulled out and flipped her over onto her stomach, roughly kneeing her thighs apart before shoving into her from behind. As soon as he was back inside her tight cunt, he wrapped his hand around her neck, covering her mouth as he brought his lips to her ear.

“You don’t speak,” he whispered, his free arm banding around her waist, holding her captive as he thrust into her, hard and deep. “You don’t deserve a voice.”

She moaned, her breath warm on his hand as she spread her thighs wider. Clenching his jaw, Clay accepted the silent invitation. He rode her hard, pounding into her until she whimpered and his balls ached from slamming into her pussy at the end of each thrust. But he didn’t pull back; he held her tighter and fucked her harder.

Harder, harder, until she screamed into his hand.

She screamed and bucked beneath him, her cunt clutching at his dick, coating him with a gush of slickness as she tumbled over. He joined her with a guttural sound, his cock jerking as he came so hard his chest felt like it was turning inside out.

Clay opened his eyes to see his cock thrusting through his own fist, the thick length pulsing as his come splashed out to coat the leaves at his feet. He bit his lip, fighting to stay silent as he jerked and pulsed, riding out the last waves of the best orgasm he’d had in years.

In years.

Fantasizing about fucking Harley had gotten him off harder than being with a beautiful, sweet woman who he considered a real friend, the kind he would drop everything and fly back to Iran to help if she were ever in trouble. He hadn’t raped Harley in his fantasy, but he wasn’t messed up enough to consider that a victory. At least not yet.

No, he wasn’t a monster, but if he stayed on this island alone with Harley Mason long enough, he would become one.

The real Harley hated him for trying to take her son away. She wouldn’t give consent, let alone spread her legs and silently ask for more. If he gave in to his twisted longing for her, she would fight him. And then he would find out if he was the kind of man who would take a woman against her will.

He swallowed hard as he tucked himself back into his boxer briefs. He didn’t want to find out if that kind of evil lived inside of him. He didn’t want to be that man and he refused to let Harley bring more misery into his life.

Which meant he had to get what he needed from her and get rid of her as quickly as possible, no lingering on this island, no taking his time coaxing the truth from her.

As much as he hated to bargain with the devil, it might be best to make a deal. Better to offer her a reward in exchange for her cooperation than to spend a month or more here alone with her, slowly losing his mind from a mix of wanting and hating.

A plan forming, Clay made his way through the forest to a hidden beach surrounded by thick foliage where he stripped to the skin and dove into the cool waves.

As his body sank below the surface and the ocean swept by overhead, Clay let the salt water wash away the evidence of his release, wishing the sea could wash away his sick longing for Harley as easily.

Chapter Seven

Harley

Harley woke up in a rush, her heart pounding and her body electrified by fear. Her eyes flew open, blinking fast as an unfamiliar ceiling and ceiling fan swam into view. She swallowed hard, wincing at the aching in her throat, wondering what had awoken her and why she was so terrified.

As the bruised flesh around her windpipe contracted, it all came rushing back.

Clay.

His hand at her throat.

The world going black and the certainty that she was about to die.

To die without seeing Jasper again, without being able to tell him she loved him, or without having the chance to write that letter she’d always meant to write: the one that thanked him for transforming her heart and giving her the most beautiful years of her life. She’d started the letter a hundred times, but it seemed dangerous to write words meant only to be read if she died before her son was old enough to have the conversation in person. It was like writing a will. She’d never done that either, not wanting to tempt fate by preparing for the worst.

It was magical thinking at its worst and she suddenly wished she’d put it in writing that she wanted Hannah to take Jasper, on the off chance that Dominic decided not to honor her wishes or if he were intercepted by her father before he could reach Hannah in Samoa. If she got out of here alive, the first thing on the agenda was finding Jasper and finding a place to hide. The second would be getting a will drawn up and arrangements made to protect Jasper from the madman his biological father had become.

Her head rolled to one side and then the other, searching for signs of life, relaxing only slightly when she saw that she was alone.

Clay wasn’t here, but he would be back, she had no doubt about that. And when he returned he might decide to finish the job he’d started. She had to think and think fast. It didn’t matter that a part of her would always be in love with the man she’d known; Clay wasn’t that person anymore. He was her enemy and had to be treated as such.

In the old days, that would have meant total destruction, annihilation from the inside out, and maybe a few bombs planted in his everyday life for him to stumble across later. Now, it meant running as far and as fast as she was able and being prepared to hide so well Clay would never find her again.

But she wasn’t going anywhere as long as she was tied to this bed.

First things first. Even in times like these, it was important to attack obstacles one at a time.

Flexing her arms, she pulled herself as close to upright as she could get with her hands bound to the top of the headboard. The bed was constructed of cheap-looking wood, but it was strong enough that she wouldn’t have a chance of breaking the slat she was secured to with muscle power alone. But Clay hadn’t bound her feet. If she could find something to use to cut through the rope, she might be able to drag the twin bed across the room to reach it.

She let her eyes sweep the small space. To her left were a large window and a screen door leading outside. In the corner was a table for two, and directly in front of the bed sat a large bureau that took up most of the wall. In the opposite corner was a closed door she suspected led to the bathroom and to her right a small couch. Behind it was a kitchenette with two cabinets up top, an electric range, and a sink all crammed together.