HATE: MADISON KATE #1

by James Tate

  So I did what any girl in my situation would do. I wrenched my gaze away and scanned the room for an escape route.

  "I've got to pee," I announced, slipping down off the countertop and damn near running in the direction of the ladies room I'd just spotted.

  The second I created some distance between Steele and me, it was like I could breathe again. Maybe if I splashed some cold water on my face, I could snap the hell out of it. Except Archer had given an order, hadn't he? Don't wander off alone. Silly me for thinking he hadn't also impressed this upon his boys.

  Long, tanned fingers circled my wrist as I ducked into the corridor leading to the restrooms, and Steele jerked me around to face him.

  The raw, desperate desire on his face was all it took to snap my already shaky control.

  I was so, utterly, screwed.

  17

  Kissing Steele was nothing like I'd imagined it would be. And I wasn't even trying to deny I'd imagined it multiple times over the past week, if not just in the past twenty minutes.

  No. It was about sixteen thousand times better.

  His fingers twisted in my hair, yanking my head back and as he kissed me like he was drowning. It was frantic and wild, our teeth clashing and our tongues wrestling as I explored that piercing that’d teased me all week. My arms locked around his neck, clinging and pulling him closer even as he pushed against me, walking me backward into the nearest restroom.

  Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to when our bodies were doing all the talking for us. Steele's lips left mine, trailing across my jaw and down my neck as I boosted my ass up on the vanity and yanked him closer. But I needed more. I needed him closer still.

  I shoved his jacket off his shoulders, then slid my hands across his flat, hard stomach, searching for the hem of his shirt. He was so fucking hot I felt like I was literally playing with fire. But then I was way past the point of caution. I stripped his T-shirt off, letting it drop to the dirty floor with his jacket, then sucked in a sharp breath of appreciation.

  Steele was fine as fuck. Not as heavily built as Archer or as sharply defined as Kody, but holy hot damn, I could see why he'd been included in those shirtless modelling shoots. No retouching needed.

  Tilting my head back, I caught his lips once more, kissing him to stop myself from babbling incoherently and totally losing all my chill. Steele grabbed me by my hips, jerking me forward to the edge of the vanity and grinding his hardness against me. Silently I cursed my decision to wear jeans, but on the flip side, the dark denim was the only thing preventing him from seeing how soaked I was already.

  I sucked his lower lip into my mouth, nipping him a bit harder than necessary, but the groan he let out was all hunger and lust. His hands skated up to my waist, sliding under my top and shoving it up over my boobs, baring my black bra.

  Breaking our kiss, he breathed a curse, then dropped his head to my chest. He yanked the soft cups of my bra down, then latched his mouth onto one of my rock hard, aching nipples, flicking them with his piercing. I moaned as he sucked and nipped, the throbbing need in my core growing hotter by the second. It was an itch that so damn badly needed to be scratched. Hard.

  I reached for Steele's belt, unbuckling the supple leather from the warm metal of his buckle. My hands were steady and sure as I flicked his button open and dragged his zipper down. I gave myself a quick mental high five that the screaming need to feel him inside me hadn't made me shake like a cold Chihuahua.

  To my surprise, though, Steele wasn’t wearing any underwear, and in an instant his bare, scorching flesh was in my palm. There was something crazy hot about a guy going commando.

  He hissed at that first contact, his tongue stud clicking against his teeth, and I allowed a feral smirk to cross my lips. His mouth was quickly back on my breast, though, and when my grip tightened, stroking him, he bit down hard enough to make me cry out.

  His warm breath feathered my skin as he chuckled that same dark and dirty laugh from earlier. The one that did all kinds of delicious things to my throbbing cunt.

  Still, we didn't speak as he tugged me off the vanity and spun me around so that his tall, toned figure was draped all over me. He made quick work of my fly, peeling my tight jeans down just enough that he could fit his hand inside.

  A desperate, whimpering moan escaped me when he stroked my clit through my lace panties, and I grabbed onto the edges of the sink for stability. Steele teased me through the thin fabric only a few moments before tugging them aside and driving two fingers deep inside me.

  A groaned string of curses fell from my lips, and I tipped my head forward for a moment, my legs shaking as my core clenched around his long fingers. He used his free hand to sweep the rest of my hair over my shoulder, baring my neck for his lips. Shuddering waves of ecstasy skated over my skin as he sucked and kissed the sensitive skin of my throat and neck, but my focus was entirely on the hand buried between my legs.

  I arched my back, pressing into him and feeling every hard inch of his body against mine. He held all the power, though, and for once I didn't care. I wanted him to take control. I loved that he'd put himself in a position of dominance, and even though I'd hate myself for it later... I wanted nothing more than to be shoved to my knees and his cock forced into my mouth.

  Our heavy, gasping breathing was the only sound in the dirty restroom as Steele proved to me just how strong and skillful his fingers were, bringing me to the edge of orgasm in mere moments. My face felt all kinds of flushed, and I was eternally grateful someone had already broken or stolen the mirror so I didn't have to watch myself come. Because when I did...

  "Holy fuck," Steele groaned as my teeth sank into the hand he'd hastily clapped over my mouth, stifling my scream so we didn't end up with an audience, no doubt. I had no apologies for him, though; he'd brought it on himself. His own breathing was just as rough and ragged as mine, and it took me a moment to realize he'd come too.

  Good thing my tank top had been pushed up over my breasts because all it took was a quick swipe with a paper towel to clean off the small of my back. My panties were a whole other fucking issue. They were drenched.

  "Fuck," I muttered, cringing as I buttoned my jeans. "That's unpleasant."

  Steele snickered one of those satisfied masculine sounds as he pulled his T-shirt back on. "Underwear is overrated, Hellcat. Just take them off."

  His abs flexed as he rolled the fabric down, and I tried really, really hard not to ogle him like I wanted to lick him all over. I failed. He noticed.

  "I'm not taking my panties off, Steele," I grumbled, running my hands through my hair in an attempt to calm down what was undoubtedly some pretty wicked sex hair. Two steps across the dirty bathroom, though, and I cringed at the moisture between my legs. "Fuck it." Steele smirked, and I glared at him. "Wait outside. I'm not taking my panties off while you're staring at me like that."

  His grin was pure evil. "Staring at you like what, Hellcat?"

  My eyes narrowed further. "Like I'm a piece of meat." I bit back the smile threatening to kill my serious, threatening image. "Go!"

  He rolled his eyes and turned to face the door. "Better? Just hurry up. The fight is probably over."

  Shit. The fight was definitely over by now. It'd been practically over when we'd started. The last thing I needed was Archer and Kody knowing what we'd just done.

  I quickly stepped out of my heels, stripped off my jeans and sodden panties, then put the jeans back on—sans underwear.

  The rough seams of my tight jeans rubbed me in all the wrong ways—or right ways, depending on perspective—and I uttered a small groan of frustration.

  "I don't know which is worse," I admitted under my breath, stuffing my feet back into my shoes. I brushed past Steele and shoved the restroom door open with him hot on my heels.

  The room where the fight had just been held was rapidly emptying out of people—which explained why no one had busted in on us in the accessible bathroom—but standing in front of the betting windows were two
very irate looking guys. Kody had his phone out, texting, and Archer looked like he wanted to kill something or someone. With his fists.

  There was no time to escape, though, because a second after I’d spotted them, Archer's furious glare met my eyes across the room.

  Fuck.

  I still had my damp panties balled in my fist, but as Archer stomped over to us, Steele slipped them out of my hand and into his pocket. Small mercies, I guessed.

  "Where the fuck have you two been?" the big, tattooed dickhead demanded, getting all up in my personal space in a way that made me want to junk punch him.

  I sneered up at him, refusing to be cowed. "None of your fucking business, Archer. Back off before I intimately introduce your balls to my knee."

  His brows shot up, and he scanned my face with eyes far too damn intuitive for my own good. Then cursed. "Steele, what the fuck? This is your idea of keeping her out of trouble?" For a moment I thought he was referring to what we'd just done in the bathroom, but then he continued his rant and the anxiety in my stomach eased. "You're both drunk. How? How the fuck do you get this drunk on that piss-weak beer they had here?"

  Steele snorted a laugh, shrugging off his friend's ire like he'd gone through it a thousand times before. "Because I came prepared, bro." He pulled his flask from his pocket—admittedly almost empty now—and tossed it into Archer's hands. "Maybe take a shot and lighten the fuck up."

  Steele brushed past Archer, making his way out of the building—but not without shooting me an evil wink over his shoulder... like he was nowhere near done with me yet.

  Shit. What have I started?

  "I told you not to get drunk," Archer snapped at me, shifting his anger back in my direction now that Steele was gone.

  I smiled as sweetly as I could. "And I told you where to shove your orders, sunshine. I'll give you a hint, in case you missed the subtext. It's where the sun doesn't shine." I gave him a highly condescending pat on the chest, then followed Steele out to the parking lot. Of the three devils I'd been saddled with for the near future, he was easily the least hateful.

  Kody and Archer followed like dark clouds, and when Kody unlocked the G-Wagen, I slid straight into the backseat with Steele.

  "Huh," Kody murmured, taking the driver's seat. "Note to self: Drunk Madison Kate is less combative than sober Madison Kate."

  Archer paused outside the car, scowling at me in the backseat, then he looked at the empty shotgun position like he was confused as hell. But, shit, dude. I’d made my point on the way over. No sense in being uncomfortable as fuck the whole way home too.

  After a moment, he sat his ass down in the vacant seat and shut the door with a heavy thunk. Typical fucking Archer, though, couldn't just leave it at that. He simply had to have the last word. Or try to.

  "Nice to see you're capable of being trained after all, Princess Danvers." The scorn in his voice made it sound like he was talking about a dog.

  Oh. Hell no.

  Alcohol and adrenaline still coursed through my veins, mixing with the lingering endorphins from my recent orgasm—a potent mix at the best of times. And this? Well.

  Sliding across the backseat, I swung a leg over Steele's lap, straddling him and bringing my lips to his for a bruising kiss. Shock only froze him for a fraction of a second before his hands grabbed my ass, grinding me down onto his already hardening cock and kissing me back with scary-level intensity.

  So much so that I needed to seriously force myself to stop kissing him before tossing my hair and giving Archer a feral smile. "Or maybe I just prefer the company back here."

  It took every ounce of my willpower to slide off Steele's lap and sit back in my seat, but the murderous look on Archer's face made it totally worthwhile.

  Kody exhaled heavily, turned the ignition on and reversed out of the space we were in. "I take that statement back," he murmured. "Drunk Madison Kate is six million times more combative. Good to freaking know."

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing, but Kody caught my eye in the rear-view mirror. The raw lust in his eyes was enough to make me second-guess my actions. These three were dangerous, unrepentant bastards, and I needed to remember that when I was dealing with them. They weren't just some cute—okay, fine, gorgeous—guys from my university. The three of them had made me into the Riot Night scapegoat and never looked back once.

  I hated them, and I needed to stop forgetting that fact.

  Messing around with Steele had been a huge step in the wrong direction, and it was one I needed to rectify. Tomorrow.

  18

  Sunlight streaming into my bedroom made everything... pinker. Sparklier. Maybe I shouldn't have turned down Steele's offer to repaint my room after all. If nothing else, I needed proper blackout curtains to block the light better.

  Fuck. Thinking about him made me think about the night before. How we'd sat together, sharing drinks and talking like, well, like two people who didn't have the baggage we carried.

  I groaned into my pillow, cringing at my own behavior. I had no idea what had gotten into me—other than Steele's way too talented fingers—and I couldn't even really blame the alcohol. Sure, we'd been a bit drunk, but I barely even had a hint of a hangover to justify my dumbass decisions.

  "Dammit, MK," I whispered aloud, flipping onto my back and staring up at the ceiling. "Idiot."

  Still, I was having a hard time getting him out of my head. The way his lips tasted or how he bit my breast or... shit, or the way Kody had looked at me with naked hunger in his gaze and Archer had glowered like I'd kicked a puppy.

  Those three pricks were in my head and under my skin, and it was all getting too much to handle. I needed to step up my plan, starting today. I'd had too many misfires already, so to fix that? A three-way attack.

  I rolled over in my huge bed, hunting for my phone, and finally found it tangled up in my sheets. I would need help for what I had in mind, and I knew just who could help me.

  "Good morning, gorgeous," Bree drawled when she answered my call. "Have you called to tell me all about your date with the quarterback? I hear he has a massive cock. Verify."

  I cringed. "Not exactly." My voice was a bit rough from raising it while talking to Steele over the crowd at the fight. "Long story. Come over? I've got a plan."

  Bree laughed. "You have me intrigued. Anything I need to bring?"

  "Yeah," I replied, grinning to myself. "Does Dallas still live in Shadow Grove?"

  There was a pause on Bree's end, then she whistled. "I'm very intrigued, now. I haven't heard from him in a couple of months, but yeah, last I knew he was. Want me to pick him up?"

  A small sigh of relief rushed out of me, quickly replaced by a buttload of anxiety. "Could you? I need his expertise for this one."

  "Your wish is my command, Princess Danvers," she replied with a laugh.

  "Ugh," I grimaced. "Don't call me that, girl. That's what Archer calls me, and I want to punch his teeth in every time he does it."

  Bree howled with laughter down the phone. "No shit, babe, that's exactly why he's doing it. It's also super catchy."

  "Fuck you, Brianna," I growled back, and she hissed a fake noise of pain before hanging up.

  I tossed my phone onto the bedside table and started getting ready for the day with a hell of a lot more pep in my step than I'd woken up with. The sketchy plan I'd been thinking on all week was going to have to work, and Dallas was my best chance of that happening.

  Better yet? His mere presence in the house would infuriate the guys to no end.

  A fraction more effort went into my hair and makeup for the day, and I spent about an extra fifteen minutes deciding what to wear before finally settling on ripped jeans and a cropped tank that showed off my toned stomach, still golden-brown from the Cambodian sun.

  I tried to tell myself the extra attention to my appearance was for Dallas's benefit, but deep down I was also conscious of running into Steele downstairs.

  When I'd wasted every possible extra minute I could, I finally h
unted out my big-girl panties and made my way down to the kitchen for breakfast. It'd be at least an hour before Bree and Dallas arrived, seeing as she'd need to drive all the way to the far side of what used to be West Shadow Grove to pick him up. My rumbling stomach wasn't going to wait that long, and besides, I wouldn't want the guys thinking I was hiding.

  To my relief—and slight disappointment—the kitchen was empty when I got there. Based on the time, though, I'd guess they were in the gym. Yep, every damn morning, the three of them spent two full hours in the gym... if not more. Steele was usually the first to bow out, though, so it was no huge surprise when a single set of footsteps padded into the kitchen about fifteen minutes later. Steele's unmistakable fingers stroked the hair back from my brow, his fingers lingering on my skin, and for a moment I leaned into him where he stood behind me.

  But it was just a moment, and a weak one at that.

  I pulled away, grabbing my freshly-made coffee and taking it back to the island where I'd put my bowl of cereal.

  Steele released a frustrated sort of sigh, his toned shoulders deflating somewhat as I created physical distance between us without a word of explanation. He knew, though. He knew it hadn't changed the way I felt about them. They’d still fucked me over, and I still needed to make them pay.

  "Don't suppose you made any more of that special coffee, did you?" he asked hopefully, arching a brow at me over his shoulder while grabbing a mug from the cupboard.

  I just took a spoonful of my cereal and shook my head. Let them suffer with that awful drip shit they all drank.

  Steele went to work setting up their machine, dropping in the filter and probably stale-as-fuck pre-ground beans. Gross. Still, it allowed me a couple of moments to admire the huge angel tattoo spread across his bare back. The fact that he was dressed in nothing but low-slung sweatpants was pushing my self control, that was for freaking sure.