Accidental Seduction: The Priceless Pregnant Prey

Christal Clay fought to keep her heavy eyelids open. The dim wall sconces in the top-floor hallway of the Zephyr Royal Hotel seemed to melt, the light stretching into distorted, glowing lines. A sudden, unnatural heat flared in her veins. Her knees buckled. She hit the thick, expensive carpet hard, the impact jarring her bones. She dragged herself up, leaning her weight against the silk-lined wallpaper. Her trembling fingers brushed against a cold metal door plaque. Her vision swam, but the brass numbers were unmistakable. Room 809. This was the exact suite Kellie had texted her. This was it. She gritted her teeth and pressed the keycard against the sensor. A soft click echoed in the silence. Before she could push the handle, the door was violently yanked open from the inside. A massive force grabbed her arm, dragging her into a pitch-black space. Christal gasped. A calloused, burning hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her scream. The heavy scent of cedar wood, mixed with the faint, metallic tang of blood, invaded her lungs. It was a purely masculine scent, raw and terrifying. She kicked out wildly. Her heel connected with solid muscle. The man didn't even flinch. He shifted his weight, driving his knee forward to pin both of her ankles against the heavy oak door. The sheer difference in physical strength paralyzed her. His ragged breathing brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck. The heat radiating from his body seeped through her thin silk dress. He was burning up. This was not normal. Desperate, Christal dug her fingernails into the thick muscle of his forearm. Her nails caught on a raised, jagged scar. The man let out a low, guttural grunt of pain. But the pain didn't make him pull back. It triggered something primal. He dipped his head in the dark, his mouth crashing down on her trembling lips with devastating accuracy. Tears spilled over her eyelashes. Her sister Kellie's voice echoed in her mind. Just go to the room, Christal. Vice President Kurtis Kramer is waiting for your audition. The image of Kramer's greasy, sweating face flashed in her head. Her stomach violently contracted with nausea. She opened her jaw, trying to bite his lip to make him stop. The man was faster. His large fingers pinched her jaw, forcing her mouth open. He deepened the kiss, turning it into a ruthless, predatory invasion. The drug in her bloodstream ignited like gasoline. Her muscles turned to water. The frantic struggling slowed, her rational mind crumbling under the crushing weight of the darkness and his burning touch. He scooped her up into his arms. The sudden weightlessness made her gasp. Pure survival instinct forced her to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. He stumbled through the dark suite, his heavy footsteps eating up the distance to the bedroom. They crashed onto a massive, soft mattress. Christal scrambled backward, her fingers clawing at the sheets, trying to reach the edge of the bed. A large hand clamped around her ankle. He yanked her back to the center of the mattress with zero effort. The sound of tearing fabric ripped through the quiet room. Cold air hit her bare skin, sending a violent shiver down her spine. A second later, his heavy, burning body covered her completely. Sharp pain sliced through her, followed instantly by a terrifying, drug-induced rush of heat. Christal squeezed her eyes shut. She lost her grip on reality, her tears soaking into the velvet pillow beneath her head. Time lost its meaning. When the violent storm finally ended, the heavy weight shifted off her. The man rolled to his side. His breathing slowed, dropping into a deep, steady rhythm. Christal woke up with a violent jolt. The freezing air conditioning bit into her bare skin. Every muscle in her body ached. The dull pain between her thighs was a brutal reminder of what had just happened. She clamped both hands over her mouth to trap the sob tearing at her throat. A thin sliver of moonlight slipped through the heavy curtains. She turned her head, desperate to see the monster's face. But the thick shadows of the bed canopy swallowed his upper body completely. Fear overrode her need to know. She slid off the edge of the mattress, her bare feet hitting the freezing hardwood floor. She crawled on her hands and knees, feeling around in the dark for her clothes. Her fingers brushed against a heavy fabric. It was a men's suit jacket. The silk lining felt ridiculously expensive. It wasn't hers. She abandoned it and found her torn dress. She pulled the ruined fabric over her head, grabbed her high heels from the floor, and ran toward the suite's entrance. Near the door, her foot clipped a tall floor vase. It tilted and hit the wall with a dull thud. Christal froze, her lungs burning as she stopped breathing. Fabric rustled in the bedroom. The man was shifting. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard it hurt. She waited in the suffocating silence until his breathing leveled out again. Her shaking hand found the doorknob. She pressed it down. The bright light of the hallway stabbed her eyes. She squeezed them shut and sprinted into the empty corridor like a hunted animal. She didn't stop until she hit the elevator buttons, smashing the down arrow over and over. The polished metal doors reflected her reflection. Her hair was a tangled mess. Dark red marks covered her neck. She looked broken. The doors slid open. She stumbled inside and curled into the corner, shivering violently. She ran out of the lobby doors. The freezing morning wind hit her face. She raised a shaking arm and flagged down a yellow cab. She collapsed into the backseat. The driver stared at her ruined state through the rearview mirror. Christal wrapped her arms around her chest, trying to hold herself together. She gave him the address to the Upper East Side townhouse. As the cab pulled into traffic, her fingers twitched. She reached up to touch her earlobe, a nervous habit she had developed over the years. Her breath hitched. The pearl earring-the only gift her adoptive father had ever given her-was gone. Back in the dark, silent penthouse suite, the sleeping man frowned. His long, powerful fingers curled inward, trapping the warm pearl earring against his palm.