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His head dips to my collarbone, tongue darting out and gliding across the expanse. I suck in a deep breath as one hand comes up, cupping my left breast; he thrums his thumb over the silver bar in my nipple, and my back bows as electricity ebbs through me, spreading from my puckered peak to the tips of my toes.
My bralette is still in one piece, but I don’t expect it to be for long.
“I really love these,” he says, almost reverently as his mouth travels lower, sucking the opposite nipple into his mouth. Hot, liquid fire rages deep in my belly as his teeth scrape against my skin. The clink of metal against bone coupled with his wet suckling has my vision blurring, toes curling into the comforter. He grins around me, biting harder, coaxing a low moan from my lips. “I bet you can come from this alone.”
I shake my head, breathless, and he tsks, pursing his lips and sucking until it feels like my skin is being torn from my body. The pain spirals with the pleasure, a furious cyclone of conflict and lust that makes my body go numb.
I’m weightless, lost in a sea of floating ecstasy, as he pinches my other nipple, tweaking it roughly. “Come for me, kitten. Show me you can be a good girl.”
So, I do—as if there’s nothing else in the world I’ve ever wanted than to be stuck under this man’s command. As if I have no other choice.
My pussy clenches around nothing, my thighs straining so hard it causes a painful throb to ignite at the base of my spine, and I see stars as he continues, working me until I dissolve into a useless pile of jelly.
He flops down on the mattress beside me, breathing heavy, and I take stock of the room, unable to do anything else. The furniture is a pale oak, worn and dated, with no personal effects decorating anything. It’s a blank slate, a fresh canvas whose artist is too paranoid to mark with any indications of his life.
At least, that was Luca’s assessment of the alleged contract killer. That Kieran holed up in his family’s mansion after his brother’s murder because he believed the killer would come after him, and it drove him to resign his position at Ivers International and take up a life of crime.
If his reaction to an intruder is any indication, Luca was spot-on, and I’m an idiot for coming here. Forsleepingwith him.
And we didn’t even use protection.
Biting my lip, I roll to my side and sit up, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. “So, do I need to worry?”
“That I’m addicted to your glorious cunt? Absolutely.” He chuckles, the sound rich and smooth and entirely too mesmerizing for the person it rumbles out of. A smile lights his entire face, revealing disgustingly perfect teeth, and the sight of him so relaxed and carefree pricks at something in my chest.
“No, not that.” I pick at a frayed piece of the gray down comforter by my foot, pulling the strings tight between my fingers. “About diseases, or something.”
He blinks. “Excuse me?”
Gulping down over the bile that’s risen in my throat, I dig my fingernails into the curve of my heel, refusing to lose my nerve. “You didn’t use a condom, and I don’t know where you’ve been.”
He sits up so fast it nearly gives me whiplash, the happiness draining from his face like an unplugged bathtub. Leaning close, he sneers at me, a quiet fury making his eyes vibrate as they glare down at me. Like gemstones, they glitter in the overhead light, a stark contrast to their hardened nature—and fuck me, because I can’t stop considering it a metaphor.
That there might be more duality to Kieran Ivers than anyone really understands.
But that doesn’t mean I need to sit here and figure it out for myself.
“You think I’d endanger you like that?”
I don’t want to tell him the truth, don’t think he deserves it, but the lie dies on my tongue as he reaches up and tangles his fingers in the ends of my hair. Withering under his hard gaze, I swallow. “Yes.”
He yanks, jerking me into him, and I shift backward to try and keep away. One hand palms my jaw, and I glance down as he smooths his thumb over my bottom lip, noticing his raw, red flesh for the first time. His hands are cracked, fissures of distress lining them, bloodied in some spots and scabbed over in others.
My mouth drops at the same time a quiet fury simmers in his green eyes, dangerous embers looking for something to spark on, but I don’t get the chance to question him. And he doesn’t get the chance to lay into me, because in the next second his bedroom door flings open, banging into the wall so hard that the doorknob gets caught in the plaster.
Boyd Kelly stands in the frame, arms crossed over his broad chest, and levels his friend with a steely look. Kieran swears under his breath, shoving me back on the bed and covering my body with his, angling his ass toward the door, even though I’m more clothed than him.
His cottage gets more action than Grand Central Station.
“Jesus, Boyd, don’t you fucking knock?”
The polished man sweeps a hand down the front of his navy suit, the ghost of something I don’t quite understand pulling his features taut. “Get dressed, we’ve got to go.”
“I’m fucking busy—”
“Your father was shot.”
Kieran swears again, scrambling off me and searching the room for his discarded clothing. Boyd glances at me as if to assess how damaged I am, so I offer him a soft smile as I cover my breasts with my forearms. I’m not okay, but it doesn’t have anything to do with the stuff Kieran did to me.
