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I didn’t let that response deter me. I knew he loved me, he’d told me—even if he couldn’t quite access that emotion right now. My gaze flicked toward the open door, a crazy idea popping into my head. Last time when he’d tried to push me away, I’d let him. He’d needed an outlet for his anger, his anxiety, and I’d left him to call some other woman.
No way that shit was happening again. I loved him. And that meant all parts. Even the mean side that came out when his hurt or fear took over.
I put my fingers to the top button of my shirt, slipping it out of the hole.
His eyes followed the movement of my hands. “What are you doing?”
I caught his stare and went for the next button. “I told you I’m here for whatever you need. I’m tough. Take whatever it is going on inside you and let it out on me.”
“What?” His voice was a low roar.
“Flog me, spank me, fuck me. I don’t care. Take all of that crap you have raging inside of you and let it out. Give me your anger . . . sir.” I let my shirt fall to the ground.
“Put your goddamned clothes on, Cela,” he said, raking a hand through his hair like a man on the brink. “You don’t need to be around me right now. I don’t trust myself.”
I went for the button on my shorts and tugged them off, my heartbeat like a hummingbird’s wings flapping against my ribs. “I do.”
“You’re fucking out of your mind, then.” He glanced at the open door as if just realizing I was exposed if Pike walked by and slammed the door shut. “You think sex is going to fix this? Fix me?”
I discarded my bra and panties, my body quaking from the risk I knew I was taking. It was like taunting a caged animal who was ready to tear apart its next victim. I stood there stark naked in front of him and pulled my hair from the band that held my ponytail.
“No, I don’t think sex will. But owning me might.” I lowered to my knees. “Give me your worst, Foster. I won’t say no. And I won’t run away.”
He laced his hands behind his head, and I could see the utter agony there, the struggle. “Don’t say things like that. It’s a lie. Everybody leaves, Cela. Everybody. Anytime things seem like they’re going to be okay, life fucking blindsides you. And you’ll be no different. Why should I deserve to have you anyway? I couldn’t even take care of my own family.”
My fingers curled at my sides, my whole being yearning to reach out to him and hold him, reassure him. But I knew that it would do no good. Every instinct inside me told me he needed an outlet for all this emotion, action not talking. “I’m not going anywhere, so I guess you’re going to have to make me.”
He stared down at me like I’d been replaced by some pod person. “Did you not hear me? Can’t you see I’m fucked up right now? If I touch you, I’ll hurt you. Get. Out.”
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On a surge of bravery and pure emotion, I pushed to my feet and shoved him hard in the chest—like I was picking some schoolyard fight. Surprise was on my side, and I managed to knock him back a step, his shoulder hitting the door. “I said make me.”
He blinked, momentarily stunned into silence, then outrage leaked into those blue eyes. He grabbed me by the arms, his fingers like vice grips to the soft flesh there, and spun me until my back was against the door. His mouth came down hard against mine in a clash of lips and teeth. I gasped into the kiss and opened to him, still scared for what I may have gotten myself into but ready to help him exorcise the demons. Bruises and bites would heal. I could handle his roughness. But I refused to accept the coldness, the distance, the shutting down.
I’d fallen in love with a passionate, beautiful man, and I wasn’t going to let that man be another victim of the killer who’d taken his sister.
Foster’s kiss was hungry and violent and like nothing he’d ever shown me before. I could feel the fury and frustration rumbling through him. He released my arms from the death grip and tangled his fingers in my hair as he deepened the kiss, taking, taking, taking. I was breathless and panting when he finally wrenched away. “Make you, huh? You want my worst. You may regret that in a minute.”
“No regrets, sir.”
That seemed to make him angrier, his teeth clenching. Without finesse, he pushed me down to my knees via the tight hold he still had on my hair and unbuttoned his jeans with his free hand. I resisted the urge to grab for my head and rub my stinging scalp. “You think you can make it all better, angel? Think a good cocksucking can fix it all?”
The words were meant to be crude and ugly. He was trying to make me hate him, to make me leave, to prove himself right. But all I heard was that he’d called me angel for the first time tonight. And if he thought forcing me to give him a blow job was a hardship, he didn’t know just how good a submissive he’d trained. My body was already responding to his commands. And I wanted nothing more than to offer him some sort of pleasure to break up all that torment he’d been suffering through.
I reached out, yanking down his boxers and pants, and smiled inwardly. Despite his anger and all of his protests, he was hard and proud, ready for me. Before I could lean forward to take him, he tightened his grip on my hair and guided his cock into my mouth, setting the pace, holding on to all the control.
I got the message. I was his to use however he wanted. He would offer me no kindness right now because I’d goaded him into this. Perhaps I should’ve minded that. Old me would’ve thought to object. But the move sent a buzz through my brain, activating all those lovely things that submission seemed to bring with it. I hummed with pleasure as the tip of his cock touched the back of my throat.
“That’s right. Make those pretty sounds. You like being used like my whore?” Foster asked through gritted teeth. “Because that’s what you’re asking for right now.”
The word whore would’ve cut me deep a few months ago. He knew that. And a rush of ire went through me. Hardheaded bastard. He was working really hard to run me off. But he wasn’t going to win this battle. I didn’t believe his bullshit. I lifted my gaze to his, determined, and rolled my tongue around the head of his cock, teasing and torturing. Seducing.
“Fuck.” He pulled out and stepped back, his hand still in my hair. I smiled up at him, challenging him. His mouth thinned into a firm, pissed-off line. “Get on the bed. On your belly. We’ll see how long you can hold that smile.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, quite demurely, embracing all the brattiness that I had in me. “You’re not going to break me. You realize that, right?”
His eyes flared—part fury, part unfettered animalistic lust. “Oh, is that right?”
