Raw, A Dark Romance Read Online Free Page B

But it wasn’t a fistfight. It looked to be some kind of martial arts training. Combat. Hand-to-hand. The movements were too precise and graceful to be just a fight.
    I stood, transfixed.
    The men were both stunningly built. Smooth skin gleaming, stretched taut over rolling bulges of muscles. The sheen of sweat beading on their shoulders, backs, chests, caught the bright morning sunlight, making them look almost god-like. Coupled with the graceful moves they made as they battled, there was no ripping my gaze away.
    My attention kept shifting to the man on the left. His wavy hair was tied back in a ponytail. His body was magnificent. I was transfixed, frozen in place.
    And the instant they stopped and he, seeming to sense someone was watching, turned to me, I became breathless.
    I didn’t think it was possible for a man to be so beautiful. His features were very masculine--chiseled cheeks, striking eyes, mouth--but so perfectly proportioned I couldn’t help staring.
    Something flashed in his eyes, and I wondered for a moment whether he would come and speak to me. Instead, he turned to his partner, dismissing me.
    Feeling slightly disappointed, I reminded myself I was here to enjoy my vacation, not to flirt with random Spanish (gods) men. I turned the opposite way from the pair and started walking down the shore, enjoying the feel of the water lapping at my ankles and the sun warming my shoulders.
    Up ahead a jumble of massive rocks  cut across the sandy beach, arching out into the water. I stopped to sit on a smaller boulder and stared out at the water. But a tingle, at my nape, made me swivel around.
    It was him.
    The battling god.
    His eyes were as dark and hard as the rocks cutting into the water, and, as he moved closer, I suddenly wondered if it was safe for me to be out here, alone. With him. This glorious stranger.
    Just because he was insanely gorgeous didn’t make him a nice man. A good man. As a matter of fact, judging from the strength of the blows he’d delivered to his partner, and the seeming accuracy of their placement, I would be a fool not to assume he was a dangerous man.
    Extremely dangerous.
    Uneasy, I circled around him so the rocks weren’t at my back, and I had a clear escape route back to the hotel.
    “You’ve wandered too far,” he said in a heavily accented voice, as deep and smooth as fine chocolate.
    “Oh, okay. Thanks.” I motioned toward the rocks. “I didn’t see any signs or notices. I can’t believe this beach is empty, with the hotel right there.”
    “Hotel?” he echoed, looking absolutely perplexed. Did they not use that word in Spain? Was he having a hard time understanding my English?
    “ Inn?” I offered, as an alternative. “Resort?”
    “Resort? There are no resorts on this stretch of coast.”
    “But I’m staying at that one.” I pointed at the building, partially hidden by a line of tropical trees and plants. “Over there.”
    “That is no resort, it is a residence.”
    “What?” There was no way he could be talking about the same building. That place was so enormous...and spectacular...and flippingly magnificent, it couldn’t be someone’s home. “No, you’re mistaken.”
    “That one?” He pointed. It appeared as if his finger was indicating the right place. “There?”
    I nodded. “Yes. The big one with the swimming pool and those trees.”
    “That is no resort. It is a hacienda . A home.”
    Home?
    I didn’t understand.
    I was told I had been booked into a hotel for the night and would go on my blind date today.
    My blind date with a Spanish billionaire.
    A Spanish billionaire might own a house (make that, a castle) like that, if such a house-castle existed.
    “Wait, who are you…?”
    “Miss Tremaine, you will not come this far again. Come with me.” He knew my name. Which had to mean…was he the billionaire or one of his employees?
    Whichever he was, employer or employee, he wrapped a strong hand around my upper arm and tugged me, like a