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So, fine. Maddoc then. He wants to marry my sister.
Something ugly and dark rushes through me. It’s anger on Chloe’s behalf, helpless rage at Maddoc’s high-handed plans to use her for his own ends, and… something else too. Something that spreads like spilled ink in my chest, blotting out all those moments that I’m still trying to tell myself didn’t mean anything between us.
Fuck being hurt, though. And fuck any jealousy too. Neither of those feelings is going to do either me or Chloe a damn bit of good, and Maddoc—none of the Reapers—fucking deserve them.
Besides, it won’t even be an issue. I won’t let Maddoc, Austin McKenna, or any other man use my sister. I may agree with Maddoc that the best way to find her is to work together, and I’m a hell of a lot more comfortable now that I’m not cuffed to the bed, but the moment we find Chloe, the deal is over.
If anyone should understand that, it’s Maddoc.
I’m exhausted by the way my thoughts keep circling back to him. Thankfully, my exhaustion eventually pulls me into a deep sleep… but that does fuck all for me when I immediately start dreaming about him.
“I hate you,” I murmur, letting my head fall back as Maddoc drives his cock into me. I’m not sure where we are. Not sure it even matters. But then I realize of course it does, and everything snaps into place.
We’re in the kitchen again, but this time it’s as pristine and orderly as it was after Logan set it to rights. There’s no sign of the struggle we got into the night I shot him. Nothing is broken yet. There’s no blood, no bullet wounds, nothing but swiftly rising pleasure that threatens to overwhelm me.
I can’t let it.
“I fucking hate you,” I pant, not sure if I’m reminding him or myself.
Maddoc doesn’t react. If anything, he fucks me even harder. And goddammit, just like when it happened for real, I like it too much.
I have to end it.
I reach for the gun he left on the counter, knowing exactly how to make that happen, except this time, it’s not there.
Maddoc grips my throat, his hips grinding against me as he smiles down at me with heat in his eyes. “What do you want, Riley?”
I try to ignore how good he feels inside me. “Your gun.”
He laughs, the sound slow and sensual. “Why? I know you won’t kill me.”
“I can’t. Not without that fucking gun.”
He drags his hand from my throat down the center of my chest. Passing over the scar. Trailing down over my stomach.
He rubs my clit, his thrusts slowing as need, white-hot and urgent, slowly builds inside me. “That’s not why.”
I want to look away, deny that I know what he means, but the dream doesn’t allow for it. My eyes stay locked onto his as I shake my head, then arch against him with a gasp when he drives in to the hilt.
“That’s it,” he says, his hands taking possession of every part of me as he fucks me even deeper. “You can’t deny me. You can’t deny this.”
I want to.
I try.
But he feels so fucking good, his cock giving me exactly what I’ve needed so badly all night, and since a part of me knows it’s not real, it’s all too easy to give in. To lose myself in the rhythm and heat of his thrusts, in the seductively dirty promises he makes as he pushes me higher and higher.
“You feel so fucking good. Like you were made for my cock. The only one—”
“Fuck you,” I rasp, a sharp pain lancing through the rising pleasure.
Because that’s a lie. I’m not the only one.
He wants to marry my fucking sister.
Maddoc’s eyes blaze, and before I know what hits me, he pulls out and flips me over so I’m facing away from him. Facing the same counter he fucked me on for real.
“Fuck you,” I repeat, bracing my hands against it and pushing backward as all the feelings I tried to suppress while falling asleep rise up inside me again.
