Page 59 of Our Covenant

Oh, the delicious thrill that runs through my gut when that statement hits him exactly where I hoped it would. His ego shatters right before my eyes, but instead of yelling or cursing, he smiles. Running his tongue across his teeth like a salivating predator, he huffs out an airy laugh. His hands fall away. I take a tentative step back and wait for him to make another move.

“Gods, he was right about you.” He looks over to the barn door and takes a few steps toward it before retracing his path back to me. “Maddox said you were here to destroy us. And now I see it.”

Since he’s not holding on to me, the sting of where his hands were starts to ache. The hot tissue throbs, and my muscles underneath are screaming for relief all while the icy night air compresses my lungs. I’m shaking and I’m sure he thinks he’s close to breaking me. He’s wrong.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” I do my best to keep up with where he’s leading us. “Though I do appreciate you underestimating me.”

“I played right into your hands. But so did Fox and Maddox.” Thorne pauses, roughs his hand at the back of his neck, then steps into me once again. “Fuck, you’ve really pinned us down, haven’t you?”

The backs of my legs and ass hits one of the barrels I placed in front of the door.

“It wasn’t that hard. You’re not as inconspicuous as you think.” I breathe out, but his body keeps me caged. Whatever is filling the barrel keeps it firm to my backside. “Now that you’ve caught up, what are you going to do, legacy?”

His hand reaches behind me to the rim of the wood. I shift to round the obstruction, but his free hand holds my hip in place.

“I think I’m done fighting. I’m going to give you what you came for.”

“Wha—” The little bit of air that’s still in my lungs is pushed away when he lifts my ass up onto the rough wood top of the barrel. He uses the distraction to wedge his hips between my thighs. One arm bands around my lower back, bringing my front flush to his. His other hand tangles into the hair at the nape of my neck. “Hawthorne!”

“Open my jeans,” he commands with gruff, lust-thick voice.

His grip around my waist loosens, but my scalp burns as his grip pulls a little tighter.

“Fuck you.” I push my numb palms into his chest.

“Only if you want to.” He grins down at me, loving how I squirm. “Call it ‘testing a theory.’ Go ahead. I’d help you out, but my hands are full.”

Thorne pulls my head to the side, giving himself access to my bare neck. His warm lips press to the thin skin over my pulse. The warmth that comes off him no longer burns. It soothes and ripples around my joints to chase away the sharp, stabbing cold.

“What are you doing?” I brace myself on the splintering wood beneath me and tell myself that I’m just using him to warm up before he does whatever he’s planning and I have to run for my life.

“I’m giving in, just like you said.” He grinds the bulge in his jeans against my cunt. The useless fabric over my clit instantly cools with arousal. “Buckle first. Then buttons.”

Slowly, my fingers make their way to his pants. Sharp pricks bring the feeling in my hands back to life when I touch the hot metal of his simple buckle. It clicks then opens easily. His hips rise to give me a better angle that I don’t need, but now I’m questioning both of our motives. I pull at the button and it comes undone.

“You taste so good.” His grateful tone does something to me. Something it shouldn’t. “Salt and moonlight.”

And dirt. And moldy straw. He’s conveniently not tasting everything else that has led us to this moment. I stiffen and ignore the needy tingling low in my belly. This new game isn’t as simple as the chase. I don’t know the rules or the prize. I’m not sure how to win or if I’m losing, but I don’t want him to stop. Maybe that’s the most dangerous part of this whole evening.

Thorne’s mouth moves down to my collarbone. His soft lips kiss the ridge from one end to the middle of my chest. His hand directs my head to the other side before he continues leaving hot kisses over the other bone.

A traitorous moan causes my chest to sink, and I feel Thorne grin. “Zipper.” His command sounds more like desperation now.

“Please, don’t . . .” I don’t know what I’m asking, but the galvanized teeth of his zipper snags and scrapes on its way down. My hand cups his throbbing cock through his briefs.

“Fuck, I hate you so much for this.” He exhales, sinking into my touch, but his hands tighten, holding me in place. Keeping me close to him for as long as he can.

My knuckles brush over my own needy sex. Slick fluid from his tip wets the soft, lux fabric of his briefs against my palm. If I moved my hand, what would he do? Would he grind against me until we are both panting and limp? Would he take what he needs then finally break my neck? If he doesn’t, Maddox, who is still lying in wait outside the barn door, will. Wouldn’t he?

“Hate me harder.” I pull my hand out from between our bodies and push my hips up to meet his rock-hard length.

Thorne pulls my head back. I grimace. Tiny needles prick the back of my neck where his fingers tighten. Meeting his gaze, I gather as much vitriol as I can through the insatiable need plaguing my judgment.

“I can’t.” He takes in a quick, shallow breath.

His last thread of resistance is wearing thinner by the second. I arch my back, the one hand on the barrel behind me the only leverage I have, and it’s just enough. A wave of pleasure rolls up into my belly as my clit rubs over the head of his cock.

“I hate you.” I moan just for him. Chip away at his sanity layer by layer. “I hate you so fucking much, Thorne.”