by Julia Swift
She looks like a goddess, riding me. She looks so fucking hot that I can’t keep my hands off of her.
But this isn’t enough for me. I need to take her. I need to possess her, make her mine completely, the same way that I’m hers, absolutely and totally hers. The next time she rises in a thrust, I catch her and roll her under me, until I’m above her, her ass hanging at the edge of the bed. I spread her knees wide with mine and plunge back inside her, so hard and fast that she gasps in desperation, her hands fisting in my hair, mine clenched hard around her ass.
She’s mine.
Chapter Thirty
Sloan
My heart catches in my throat as he grabs me and throws me off of him. An almost guttural growl escapes me, and as he swings himself on top of me, I rake my nails down his chest, a spike of adrenaline and desire burning through me hot as a forest fire. I want him to fuck me so hard I bruise, and I want to make him bleed while he does it. I’ve never been so angry and yet so turned on in my life.
His hard cock stabs deep into me, and I groan through gritted teeth, my hands tight around his biceps, nails digging in. His eyes, when they meet mine, are feral.
He drives into me, harder and faster, until we’re both gasping and moaning for air, and just when I feel like I’m about to burst, he pulls out of me. I writhe beneath him, my hips straining as I try to reach him, but he presses his warm hand flat against my stomach, pushing me back down onto the mattress. “Tell me you want it, Sloan.”
I narrow my eyes. I can’t believe he’s doing this now. Now, after everything he put me through this week. “You know what I want.”
I grimace. I want you screams in my limbs, in my gut, in my wet pussy and my disheveled, crazy stupid heart. But my brain knows better than to admit that. My brain knows I need to stop this hurt from ever happening again. Because it still hurts, what he did, how he used me. And I don’t trust him not to do it again.
This, all this, his hot body against mine, his cock inside me earlier, that’s all a distraction. Physical feeling trumps emotional pain.
“I want you to fuck me,” I tell him instead, and I once again try to pull him down against me.
He takes both of my hands now, pins them over my head. “Tell me you want me, and you can have me.” His eyes bore into mine. I can’t breathe like this. Not the position, just the way he’s looking at me. Like he’s staring straight into the sun, burning out his retinae, and he doesn’t care.
“You hurt me, Gage.” My voice tremors at first, but I force the full power of my anger into it. “You used me. You lied to me. You manipulated me, and now you’ve kidnapped me. And you want me to tell you I want you?”
“Yes,” he replies simply. Those searing eyes search mine.
“How can you possibly ask that from me right now?” I hiss. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, but I sink my teeth into my cheek, bite them back. Because I won’t let him see me cry again. Not now. Not like this.
“Because you are the only thing in my life that has ever mattered, Sloan. And you can hate me, that’s fine.” He juts his chin at me, spread eagle on the bed before him. “I need to know that some small part of you wants me, too.”
I pause, waiting. Thinking. But the silence stretches on longer and longer, and he’s not relenting, and goddamn it, the desire is too much. He feels too fucking good inside me. “I do,” I finally reply through clenched teeth.
And then, relief, as he keeps my wrists pinned in his hand, and thrusts into me again, filling me to the brim, sending a rush of pleasure through my entire body. We’re both so close to the edge, frayed with want and need, that we come in moments, his deep, throaty grunt mingling with my loud moan as he comes inside me, and I pulse around him, clenching hard, milking every last drop out of him.
He collapses across me, releasing his hold on my hands, reaching for my hair instead, running his fingers through it.
That, that is too much for me. I push out from under him and pad across the motel room, naked, leaving him alone on the bed. “I’m taking a shower. Don’t wait up.”
Only once I close the bathroom door behind me do I let myself sag against it, sinking slowly down the wooden frame until I’m crouched beneath it, my knees up around my chest. I rest my forehead on them and breathe in slow, deep breaths. It doesn’t help that I smell like sex, like him, like everything I’ve been wanting right now.
I still want him, I realize. And I’m not sure I can keep it to a purely physical thing. But I definitely can’t resist the physical part, not while we’re in the same room like this, trapped together until the end of the week, until his creepfest of a boss decides our fates once and for all.
The long and the short of it? I am so screwed.
Chapter Thirty-One
Gage
I wake up on the floor where I volunteered to sleep, my head buried in a towel from the bathroom, my coat the only blanket I’m wearing. My muscles throb from the hard surface, but I’m used to it. I’ve been through worse.
More painful is the sound of her slow, gentle sleep breathing across the room. More painful is watching her prone form curled in a fetal position on the bed, knowing she’s in pain. I’ll do anything it takes, whatever it takes, to save her. . .
No. I force that thought from my mind. I don’t care if I die doing it, I will see her out of this mess. It doesn’t matter that she hates me right now. It doesn’t matter that after we fucked earlier, there was more anger in her eyes than any other feeling.
The only thing that matters is keeping her safe.
I stare at the ceiling and try to ignore the flashes of memory on playback in my mind. Everything Aaron has ever made me do. Everything I’ve watched Aaron do himself. The threats. The lies, the stealing, the intimidating. The worst things. Breaking bones, breaking spirits. Listening to Aaron do his dirty work, the screams muffled by the thick walls of his office.
Taking suspiciously heavy packages to the shore to weigh down with chains and set adrift, and not asking too many questions about the contents.
Sloan is right to hate me. I’m not the kind of man a woman like her can love.
There’s a faint rustle from the bed, and the gentle breathing stops. I roll over to find her staring at me, curled on the side facing me now, the sheets tangled around her night shirt.
We don’t say anything for a long while. We just watch each other in the moonlight that filters through the cheap curtains, offset orange by the motel parking lot lights. Finally, after what feels like forever and yet no time at all, the same way I feel anytime I’m with her, she lifts an arm, extends it toward me.
I don’t hesitate. I cross the room to her. Before she can say anything, I already have her warm body in my arms, my lips pressed to hers, and we sink into one another, our mouths saying what our tongues cannot. I lift myself over her, and her legs wrap tight around my waist, draw me down against her, until I’m thrusting inside her, finding home inside her warm, soft body. We keep our mouths locked the whole time, our hips thrusting in unison, hers rising up to meet mine so that with every drive, my cock delves deeper into her, striking deep into her core, her whole body convulsing beneath me, her lips parting as she gasps in desperate pleasure.
We move in each other, again and again, until she finally cries out for release, and then I fuck her hard and fast, until she comes screaming and I kiss her again, swallowing her moans and gasps of ecstasy. I come hard just after her, filling her, and then I collapse across her, our sweat-coated bodies melded together as one, our breathing synchronized, even our hearts seeming to pulse in tune.
I don’t remember much after that. I roll off of her, still keeping one arm draped around her, and we both drift into oblivion, our bodies still locked together, inseparable.
The next time I crack my eyelids open, dawn is already pouring through the blinds. I half curse to myself. I should already be back at my place. He’ll want to know what the hell happened, why I didn’t deliver Sloan as promised. I’ll need to think fast t
o keep her out of it.
I’m still thinking over my options when her phone starts to buzz along the side table, an angry, invasive sound. Her eyelids fly open and she’s got a fist wrapped around the cell before I can even make a move to silence it for her, and spare her a few more moment’s sleep. Clearly she’s used to this kind of situation. It hits me all over again, what it must have been like for her to grow up with a brother like she has, constantly aware that something could go wrong at any moment, always on high alert for any kind of emergency.
She’s acting on that same instinct now, I’m sure, as she asks whoever is on the other end of the line what’s wrong.
I can’t hear the low, murmured response, but I can guess that it’s from the brother, because who else would it be at this hour?
“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice husky from sleep, and it makes me want to tear the phone away from her, pull her back into my arms where nothing else matters.
Except, we can’t lose ourselves like that right now. We need to stay one step ahead of this thing. One step ahead of the asshole I sold my life to years ago, back when I didn’t have anything worth not selling out for.
That’s not who I am anymore. Not since I met her.
“Yeah.” Sloan squints at me, bleary-eyed. “How did you know he’s here?”
This time, I can hear the voice on the other end, raised, probably for my benefit. “I’m coming over.”
She reads her brother the hotel address, and before she’s even hung up the phone, she’s already climbing out of bed, slamming the door to the bathroom behind her. Cutting herself off from me yet again.
I wait until the shower kicks on before I follow her out of the bed. Pull on my boxers, a T-shirt, and stumble out the door to crouch on the stoop. I need to screw my head on straight, or I’m going to get us both killed.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sloan
Gage is nowhere to be found by the time I step out of the bathroom, fully clothed, ready to put last night as far behind me as possible. I was upset about Freddie, freaked out by this situation. I wasn’t thinking straight.
Now I am. Now I realize that last night can never happen again.
Still, I breathe a faint sigh of relief when I step out of the steamy shower room to find the hotel room empty. I’m not so sure I trust myself to steer clear of him until Freddie gets here.
Freddie.
He sounded so scared on the phone earlier. He said he needed to talk to me and Gage, together. That sounded weird enough that I didn’t bother to question him. What on earth could my brother have to say to me that he’d also need to tell Gage, the guy hired to intimidate and steal money from him?
I force the thought from my mind and shove open the motel room door instead. My stomach growls at me, angrily reminding me that I haven’t eaten since an early dinner last night. I wonder if there’s a breakfast nook in this place, or at least a vending machine I could buy some chips from.
The moment I open the door, though, my question dissolves. Because Gage is climbing out of his truck, a bag full of takeout gripped in one hand. He hands it to me without a word, and we sit on the stoop outside to dig into it. Bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich on a biscuit, with a side of my favorite hot sauce. I have no idea how he figured out that’s my usual topping.
I’m not sure I want to know.
We don’t talk. Not until my brother’s car pulls up in the parking lot beside ours, and then we exchange a sideways glance, rise to our feet as one, and walk over to greet him.
No way we’re letting him see the inside of the motel room right now. Not after last night. I’m ashamed enough of letting that happen without all but admitting to my brother how weak I am. Still sleeping with the guy who used me.
In the end, we settle onto a picnic bench a few yards away from the motel, far enough from the parking lot that we can see every car pulling in and out. Secluded, with the low-hanging tree branches overhead, which look like they’ve never been trimmed once in their lives.
My brother takes the seat across from us and places his hands flat on the picnic table. For a long, awkward moment, the only sound is of cars whizzing past on the nearby highway, and a few birds overhead in the tree cooing forlornly.
“I just heard from Aaron,” he finally says, and I can’t help it.
“About Sloan?” Gage asks before I can beat him to the punch.
Freddie shakes his head. “No. Not exactly,” my brother adds with a pointed look at Gage. “It was about the drop. He doesn’t want to wait anymore. He wants to do it tomorrow. New location, too. He wants to do it in the Revel. Or, the old Revel, I guess, isn’t it being renovated now?”
“By Aaron,” Gage replies with a scowl. “He wants you on his turf. So he’ll be in total control of what happens to you in there, and who witnesses it. Or who doesn’t, as the case may be.”
I clench my hands under the table to try and stop them from trembling. Much as I’m angry at him right now, I do not want to picture my brother in the hands of the man Gage works for. Not if he’s as awful as he sounds. Making Gage seduce me, use me, then sending someone else to kidnap me for god knows what.
“What did you tell him?” Gage asks, and I force myself to stop thinking of all the ways this could go wrong and pay attention to them.
“That I can’t do it.” Freddie sets his jaw hard. “He said it wasn’t a request. That I’ll be there with the money tomorrow at 6 p.m. sharp, or I’ll never see my sister again.” He finally meets my gaze for the first time since he showed up at the motel. “I’m assuming he thinks Gage has already kidnapped you,” Freddie says, keeping his voice carefully neutral. Yet I hear the question in it.
Are you okay? Are you safe here?
“Let him keep thinking I have,” Gage replies, and I nod, just a little, just enough for Freddie to see and understand. Whatever the hell is going on, I trust Gage that far, I think. He might not have my best interests at heart, but I don’t think he could turn me over to his boss to be killed. I can’t imagine him letting me get hurt.
“There’s no way you could swing a drop tomorrow?” Gage prompts, and Freddie tears his eyes from mine.
“No. It was all set for Saturday.” He digs his nails into the picnic table, so hard that it has to hurt.
“Freddie,” I interrupt. “What was set?”
He winces. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”
“I’d say the two of us are pretty knee-deep in this shit with you, so you might as well come clean,” I mutter.
He nods, slowly. And then his next words nearly knock me off the picnic bench. “I’m working for the FBI.”
I gape at my twin.
For his part, Gage doesn’t look flustered. His eyebrows rise, and his dark expression clears a little, but other than that, he seems to take the news well.
Better than me.
“What the hell, Freddie?” My voice practically cracks on his name. “For how long? Why? When? What?”
“They made me swear to secrecy, Sloan. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.” He reaches for my shoulder, but seems to think better of it halfway there and raps his knuckles on the table instead. “They told me about Aaron. The things he’s done in the past. This guy has a reputation for lending people in dangerous situations a lot of money, and then ruining them. He’s preying on down-and-out people. Addicts and thieves, yes, and also innocent people without a lot of money. Desperate people. People who need to survive, or to help someone else survive.” His gaze, inexplicably, darts toward Gage at this line. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Gage shaking his head, hard. Like he’s asking my brother not to say something.
But Freddie keeps talking, and I forget all about that. “He went after a few of the guys I went to rehab with,” Freddie says. “That’s why the police approached me. They knew, out of a lot of the people in my program, that I’ve stayed clean. Turned my life around. If anyone could pull this off for them, it’d be me. I have the past, Aaron would believe that I’
d fallen off the wagon again. All I was supposed to do was borrow a lump sum of money from him, turn it over to the Feds, and then, when I was supposed to give it back plus interest, they were going to stick a wire on me. Catch him red-handed threatening me and blackmailing me for the money, or however far he would go.”
“So you need to do the drop to get him arrested,” I say.
He nods. “Which is why we set it for Saturday. There’s a whole team set up around it. Guys who will listen to the exchange on the wire, other guys who will go in as backup if things turn too sour too fast. Ideally I could get him threatening me or something else incriminating on tape, and then get out of there and let the Feds do their jobs.”
“So have them push the drop up to tomorrow?” Gage suggests.
Freddie’s already shaking his head. “I’ve tried. They can get me guys to help with the wires, tomorrow, if I need to go in. But they can’t get me the money before then. They have to get clean bills, whatever that means, set up tracking on them. I don’t know. It just won’t be ready before Saturday.”
Gage curses under his breath.
“So, what, you’re supposed to go in tomorrow with the wire and say, ‘Oops, sorry evil money lender guy, I don’t have the cash after all’?” I say.
Freddie shrugs a shoulder, attempting a weak half-smile. “Well, they’ll definitely threaten me. If we can get that on recording . . . ”
I shake my head hard. “Uh uh. No way. This guy could kill you, Freddie.”
“I’ll have people listening on the other end,” he says.
“What about a backup team? To go in if you get taken or if things go sour, like you said?”
Freddie hesitates a split second too long.
“No,” I’m already saying. “No way. You cannot go in there without a whole freaking army of FBI people behind you. I won’t let you.”