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But I couldn’t do this. I was a teenager. I wasn’t a killer.
I dropped the knife and it clanged against the warehouse floor.
There was still a right way and wrong way to do things.
And this didn’t feel right.
With a growl, my father reached me in three long strides and shoved me out of the way. I fell to the ground, my wrist slamming against the concrete as I hit it with full force. Pain shot through me, and I squeezed my eyes shut—but not before I saw my father run the blade across Miles’ throat and a spurt of dark red blood hit the floor as the rapist died.
CASSIDY
Present
It was a noise, something unfamiliar that woke me. My eyes flicked open. It was dark. Middle of the night dark. I could barely see anything but the shadows around me. Across the room, the curtain danced in the gentle breeze coming off the river. It was silent. Unease began to tingle at the base of my spine as I held my breath and strained to hear in the darkness.
Then it came again. A cry in the night.
“No!”
It was a male voice.
“No, don’t. Please.”
I sat up.
“I don’t want to do it.”
It was Chance.
“There has to be another way.”
And he was having a nightmare.
I ripped off the covers and padded across my room to the hallway.
“Let the police take care of it.”
I pushed open his bedroom door and walked in. “Chance? Are you okay?” He was still asleep on his bed, the sheet pushed down around his narrow hips. His broad, muscular chest was shiny with sweat as he tossed his head side to side and continued to plead with someone in his nightmare.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I gently shook him. “Chance?”
With a rush, he lurched awake and sat up, his breathing heavy and fast. His eyes darted around the dark room before resting on me.
“Is everything alright?” he rasped.
“You were having a nightmare,” I explained.
“I was?” His brow furrowed and he struggled to swallow. He looked confused. Concerned. “Did I say anything?”
“You mentioned your dad then something about the police taking care of it.”
He frowned, his eyebrows drawn together as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t remember.”
Sitting this close to him, I could feel the heat of his naked torso radiating around me and smell his subtle scent. It was deep and masculine and fucking intoxicating. I licked my lips, feeling the need take up in me.
I knew I should leave. Go back to my room. But the way he was looking at me sent all types of crazy spiraling through me.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Maybe it was the lateness of the hour and the fuzziness of sleep still lingering on my brain.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Or maybe it was the sight of that insanely chiseled chest and bare stomach thick with muscle.
“Are you sure?”
Or the knot of lust I felt every time I was in the same room as him.
Maybe it was all of the above that made me lean forward and graze his lips with my own.
The move took him by surprise.
I felt him hesitate.
Felt his breath hitch in his chest.
Felt the violent thud of his pulse against his throat as I slid my hand up to his jaw.
My name fell from his lips but was stolen by me as I pressed another kiss to them. With one sweep of my tongue into his mouth, he moaned, and his lips moved with slight hesitation as he fought something inside him before surrendering completely.
He cupped my face between his giant hands and kissed me hard and deep, like a man starved. His lips were masterful and his tongue skillful in the way it danced with mine, taking the lead and making me see stars behind closed lids.
I reached for him, my hands sliding over the bulk of his broad shoulders and down his spectacular chest. I felt him flinch beneath my touch as my hands brushed over thick abdominal muscles. He groaned—a desperate, primal sound that made my skin tingle with lust and my body ache for more.
A throb took up between my thighs. A hot, achy pulse wanting to be filled. Stretched. A need to feel him stroke in and out of my body.
Rolling us, he covered me with his bulk, and I could feel his cock, stiff and big in his boxers, pressing into me. I shifted beneath him, welcoming the hard ridge between my legs, rubbing me in exactly the right place. His breathing came quick, and he groaned as I rocked against him. I was lost in a dizzying storm of sensations. The bulk of him on top of me. The heat of his breath on my skin. The kiss he seared into my lips. The friction of his hardness against my clit. I gasped again. I wanted him. All of him. I wanted him naked. I wanted to see and touch his cock. I wanted to feel the fullness of him as he thrust deeply and slowly into me.
