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Corded muscles flexed under my grasp as I clenched tighter. Part of me wanted to be cruel, to hurt him. To feel something. So I poked him, pushing hard into his mammoth chest. The man must be at least six-foot four. I was guessing probably close to 300 pounds of pure…raw…power.
The desperate need to kneel in front of him was overwhelming. I wanted to slide these clothes from my body. I wanted to be used…to be ruined. To be owned. I wound my hands around his wrist instead, clenching tight until my arms trembled with the strain.
I wanted to hate him and fuck him all at the same time.
The way he looked at me was unnerving.
Empty.
Raw.
Fuck him.
Fuck him now?
I dropped his wrist and reeled back instead, then unleashed, slapping his chest as hard as I could. SLAP! The sting across my palm was instant. Still, he never moved. Nor did he hate. My throat thickened as I pressed my hand against the hard swell, smoothing, touching. Christ, he felt so good.
I was falling apart, unraveling at the seams.
Shattering on the inside.
“Can you…can you please hold me?”
He never moved, not at first. Nor did he stop me as I pressed my body against his. He smelled of sweat and survival. Both hit me hard. My nipples tightened as I rubbed my face against his chest and took what I wanted.
No…
What I needed.
I licked my lips and lifted my gaze to those dark eyes hidden behind the mask. The ones which had held me transfixed from the moment he’d rescued me. Instinct drove me to reach for his face. Only, he moved then, like a viper, to grasp my wrist. One small shake of his head stopped me.
My chest boomed with every brutal thud of my heart.
He searched my eyes.
I pushed harder, inching my fingers up to that gruesome skull and brushed his hard cheek. He didn’t push me away…just held me.
Something passed between us.
Something born out of desperation and the need to survive.
“Please,” I whispered. “I need to see you.”
I inched my fingers to the edge of his balaclava, slowly tugging it up the hollowed throat and along the dark stubble. There was no shake of his head this time. He held my wrist as I peeled the mask over his chin and his mouth up to his nose.
That’s where he stopped me.
I stared at his mouth as he tilted his head down to mine.
That hard, beautiful mouth.
Part of me still howled and screamed after what those bastards had done to me. But I locked that part away. Compartmentalized, as Dr. Kane Cruz would say. I leaned into that as I rose, feeling the burn across the balls of my feet, and kissed him.
His mouth moved and his hard lips were warm against mine.
He is their brother.
It was that thought that spurred me on, opening my mouth wider until the mountain moved. He grasped me around the waist and lifted, carrying me to the counter, and eased me down.
