Page 46 of Scars Run Deep

“Our clash at the Blowout was a pretty good gauge, yeah.”

Oh God. The heat coming off him, the sheer intensity… it was a hell of a heady thing.

His hand in my hair clenched into a fist, making him pull it at the roots.

The bite of pain had a moan slipping from my lips, pushing me into that deviant headspace, the one that set my blood on fire.

He trailed the fingers of his free hand down my throat, brushing over the marks there, trailing down to the tops of my breasts.

“Mmm, Asher marked you real good. His possessiveness is showing.” He fingered a lighter red mark on my shoulder, visible with the way my top fell. “Kill too. Soft and sweet compared to Asher’s deep bites and claw marks though.”

“And you?” I found myself asking, succumbing to the deliciously heated moment.

His eyes flared with erotic promise that had wetness pooling between my thighs.

“Fucking animalistic,” he growled.

He shoved me, knocking me back against the wall with a bone-rattling jar.

Then he descended on me, his mouth crashing down on mine, taking me in a brutally hard kiss that stole my breath.

He swiped his tongue along my bottom lip and I took the cue, opening my mouth so he could thrust inside with a groan. Stroking, swirling. It was wild and unhinged. Utterly demanding. He was laying claim to me.

And I gave it right back to him, matching the savagery and rising right to it, giving myself over to it, to him. I tugged at the strands of his neon-blue and black hair and a sexy growl rumbled from him that almost had me combusting right there up against the wall he had me pinned to with his hips.

His hands shifted to my arms, his fingers digging in to the point of pain, really making me feel it. It was definitely going to leave marks and that just skyrocketed my arousal to a whole other level.

The next thing I knew, my hands were sliding down from his hair, across his shoulders, down either arm, then his back. I slid them underneath his tank, feeling up those rigid muscles, before sliding around to his abs, his heat infusing me, his need bleeding into me.

“Fuck,” he groaned as I raked my nails over every sculpted ridge, making my own claim.

Marking him as mine.

It was insanely empowering.

Just as giving myself over to my darker desires was.

And not just sexually, as I’d come to realize after that basement thing.

Where that was concerned, though, there was another fucked-up side to it, one being held back from me accessing it more often by a tidal wave of guilt that threatened to drown me in the flood if I gave myself over to that part.

Jonah’s hot breath at my throat pulled me back from going too far down that thought path.

And then he had me screaming out into the living room as he sank his teeth into my flesh.

The raw pain shot straight through my body, sparking every fucking nerve-ending to life in the most incredible way, reaching depths and intensity I’d only ever felt since I’d come to know the three of them.

I was undulating my hips in the next moment and I moaned as I felt his thick erection against me.

He eased his mouth from me and I watched as, with a long, slow lick, he cleaned his lips of my blood.

“God,” I choked out.

He smirked devilishly, then grabbed my hips roughly and forced me harder against him, moving with me, but positioning me just right as he lifted me off the floor like it was nothing, his muscles flexing, but not showing much real strain. I felt his dick sliding through my folds through our clothes.

“Yes,” I breathed. “More. Fucking more.”

“Hell, yeah, baby.”

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