Page 115 of Blades Out
I couldn't speak. Couldn't think. Could only cling to him, my body burning, my mind blank with need.
His hand slid under my shirt, calloused fingers splaying against my bare waist, and I shuddered, my back arching off the wall. His thumb brushed the underside of my breast, teasing, and I made a sound that was half moan, half plea.
He froze. For one heartbeat, two—his breathing ragged, his body trembling against mine.
Then he tore himself away.
His back hit the opposite wall with a thud as I yanked him toward me, fingers twisted in his hoodie. The fabric stretched tight between my fists, my pulse hammering in my throat. His chest heaved, dark eyes wild with something raw and dangerous.
"I can't—" His voice broke, rough and strained.
"Please." My voice came out as a whisper, trembling but certain.
His jaw clenched. "Fuck." A shudder ran through him. "You don't know what you do to me."
I stepped closer, my body pressing against his. "Then show me."
His hands came up, gripping my waist hard enough to bruise. "I don't want to hurt you."
The words sent a thrill through me. I tilted my chin up, meeting his gaze head-on. "I want you to."
Something dark flashed in his eyes. "You don't know what you're asking."
I clenched my teeth, frustration burning. "Fine."
"Fine?" His grip tightened, fingers digging into my hips.
"Get out." My voice cracked, but I forced the words out. "Go. I'll call Ben and?—"
His expression twisted. "That boy won't touch you."
The possessive growl in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. I pushed against his chest, but he didn't budge. "You don't get to decide that."
His hands slid up, gripping my shoulders. "Like hell I don't."
I glared at him, my breath coming fast. "You walked away. Remember?"
His grip shifted, thumbs brushing the pulse points in my neck. "I'm here now."
The heat of his touch burned through me. "For how long?"
His eyes darkened.
The words hung between us, heavy and dangerous. I should have pushed him away. Should have told him to leave. But the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing he wanted, the only thing he needed—I couldn't.
I reached up, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Stop talking."
His mouth claimed mine again, brutal and consuming, his tongue stroking deep as he walked me backward. My spine hit the doorframe, and he didn't stop, his body pressing into mine as we stumbled into the dark bedroom. The door slammed shut behind us.
His teeth caught my bottom lip, tugging hard enough to sting before his tongue soothed the bite. I gasped, and he swallowed the sound, his hands fisting in my hair, angling my head exactly where he wanted it. The kiss turned filthier, all teeth and tongue and raw hunger that made my knees weak.
"No one else," he growled against my mouth, his voice rough gravel. His hands gripped my waist, spinning me until my back hit the wall beside the bed. "You hear me?"
I nodded, breathless, my fingers clawing at his jacket.
"Say it." His teeth scraped down my throat, making me shudder.
"No one else." The words came out broken, desperate.
