Page 36 of Sink With Me

I allow my hand to trail her arm. She’s so smart when she lets that pretty little head work. My grin grows.

“No, but I can organize better accommodation. You can stay here and not as a prisoner. We can change things. I know you’re more than some killing machine.” My voice drops to a husky whisper. I still intend to make her pay for all the years she has ruined my life. Her features flush and her lips part as my fingers trail back up, grasping her jaw and forcing her to keep eye contact. My thumb rests against her bottom lip, brushing the plump flesh and sending all the different ways I can achieve that running through my head like a marathon.

I can still make her beg for mercy. I can make her apologize for the havoc she put in my life. She jerks away from me, making my trance fall as quickly as it comes. One moment she acts like she wants to be close, the next she’s disgusted. I tap my fingers against the lettering on my vest, steadying my breathing. It’s so hot and cold, a battle of wits and strength, only she’s not battling me, she’s battling herself.

“Oh wow, sounds amazing, trading one prison for another.”

“It’d be different.”

I mean technically it would, in a way. I wouldn’t bind her to one room, she’d be free to go around the base as she pleases. Outside of base would be another story, but we can worry about that later, maybe set up an adjustment period or something. I’ll get a hold of Sam after this and figure something out. No. Scratch that, I’ll do it on my own.

She shakes her head with an irritable fake laugh. The sound echoes off the walls, mocking me. I don’t want fake, I want real, and she will give it to me. Her gaze darts between the page and me, then over again, for a moment I think maybe she’ll believe the words I say. She’ll spill everything I’d been dying to know, but time and time again she proves me wrong. Her body crashes into mine. All the air that once filled my lungs dissipates. Someone can rarely knock me on my arse, but it seems there is a shark in her after all. The one I’d watched finally showing herself to me.

Her knee digs into my chest as she forces her body over mine in a scrambled attempt to get away. As if she’ll ever be able to escape me. My head throbs from its sudden impact, my hand curling around her thigh trying to pull her back level but she kicks me in the mouth just as I turn my head.

The taste of copper coats my tongue, igniting my taste buds into a frenzy, and a rush of adrenaline coursing through like the shit was injected straight into my chest. I’ve always liked a good chase; it makes the reward sweeter. The soft patter of her feet moves at an impeccable speed, despite the stumble in them, until she’s inches from the door. Just as she collides with the barrier my chest clashes with her back, and her shoulder blades push into the velcro's lining my ribs with each heavy breath she takes. She calls me sick regularly, but she doesn't realize how much I have to hold back around her. I wrap my hands around her wrists not only caging her in but keeping her pinned with the… where the hell did she find a knife? Correction—my knife? Our knife.

“Was that your plan?” I lean closer so she can feel my breath on the shell of her ear. “Stab me to death, then what?” I purr, my tongue darting out to the nice souvenir of a busted lip she had graced me with. Maybe it’ll be another mark of hers I’ll have the honor to bear. Her fist clenches around the handle, but she doesn’t make any attempt to push me away, or better yet, kill me, so I lean my weight a little further into her. Her body molds to mine so perfectly in every way, making it hard to ignore where all my blood is flooding too. I glance down to her lush arse seated so comfortably against my cock.

“Then I was going to drag you to the ocean and watch your pathetic body sink to the bottom.” She says in a breathless whisper. I take a deep inhale, letting her scent flood my senses. My lips move to her earlobe where I nip at the soft, tempting flesh, making her suck in a harsh breath.

“Hm, then what? Did you think you could get away with killing me on my base? I know you’re smarter than that.” My taunt quickly fades into a groan, feeling the way she pushes back into me. She’s not a shark, she’s a siren.

“Maybe.” Her head turns back, her lips curled to one side. Loosening her grip on the handle, she must have felt it. Her head turns to admire the wood with deep carvings. Now you’re getting it, little siren. Her thumb grazes the chipped shark surrounded by different depths of waves. For a moment she’s quiet, still, turning the blade between her thumb and forefinger, studying each detail.

“Aw, you’re so obsessed with me.” She hums with a real fucking smile. She dares to call me sick? Does she hear herself? Who the hell finds the way I feel about her adorable? It’s far from it. It's dangerous. Enough so that I’d gladly rip through anybody that she tries to hide behind, burn every building she tries to take shelter in just to keep her by my side. Now that I have her, I’ll never be able to go back to the way things were before. I won’t be able to hold her picture and feel sated or whittle away like a psychotic old man to feel like she’s close.

I try to fight back the laugh that threatens to come out of my mouth, but I know she can feel the shaking of my chest.

Her gaze pulls over her shoulder in an expression I can only describe as a shock. Big mistake, little siren. Taking my opportunity, I pull the knife from her hand, causing her to let out a surprised gasp. Pushing it to her neck, I put just enough pressure that she can feel the steel blade, but not enough to break the skin. I click my tongue slowly while shaking my head. If only she knew how easy it would’ve been for me to do it the first time around.

My eyes flick between hers, genuinely confused about how she’s so afraid of the ocean, yet she holds it in her eyes. Every storm and deep dark depth lay right there before me, taunting me with the unknown. She’s so destructive, a product of terror just like the waves that suck in a ship, but you can’t pull your gaze away from the pure beauty of the chaos.

“You made your mark on me, little siren. Should I do the same?”

“I hate you.” She whispers, but her words falter as she swallows again against the blade, making the skin below it slightly break, drawing me to the string of blood sliding down the column of her throat. I hate the color. It should never taint her flesh, even if it’s by my hand alone. If I ever cause it, then I’ll make sure it's wiped away. My movements are too hurried for even me to process—my hand pulls away only to be replaced by my tongue following the streak up to her wound.

I suck the flesh, and she hisses from the sensation. I can’t wait to pull more of those pretty little noises from that smart-arse mouth. Her head falls to the side, giving me better access, to trail my lips along her neck until I reach her jaw. The skin is so smooth I have to fight back the urge to sink my teeth in. She pushes back into me again, whether it’s from a very poor attempt to move away or get closer, I don’t know, but it makes me ache for her attention. Pulling away, I shove my knife back into the holster on my leg. I have some curious kinks but until I get over my hate for red, knives aren’t going to be a part of them.

Placing my hand on the nape of her neck, she squirms against my grip as I drag her back to the table. She can fight all she wants. I don't mind. At some point, she’ll surrender.

The little devil sends her elbow into my ribs while I lean over and pick up the file. I squeeze her neck in warning, throwing down the portfolio in front of her I push until her hips are flush with the table. Her hands fall against the cold steel to stay upright.

I have to take a breath to calm my primal instincts. She’s in here for a reason. I need the information, but the way she looks against me, almost willing to submit the way I did, has a low growl bubbling in my chest.

“We can work together, you know? I know you're just as curious as I am.” I murmur, tilting my head into the crook of her neck and dragging my teeth along the skin. I can't help it, she's fucking intoxicating. Now that I’ve tasted her, I’m like an addict needing my fix. She is so still and so quiet, it’s almost worrisome. The only sounds are the soft buzz from the lamp on the table and the whirring of the base outside the confined room.

“You’ve been hell-bent on the sunken ships. Don’t you want to know who caused them?” I brush my thumb against the side of her neck feeling the soft waves that roll down her back tangle beneath my fingers.

“I still fucking hate you.”

My irritation grows. How stubborn can one person be? That’s an illogical reason to go against cooperating with me. There’s something deeper keeping her from talking. Raising my head, I lean beside her, looking down at the same papers while my breath falls against her neck.

“You do?”

I drop my grip to her waist. If the small tremor wracking her spine and the way her knuckles turn white, curling into the edge of the table as I pull her back, isn’t sign enough she’s just as affected by my presence, I don’t know what is.

I take my time tracing the hem of her shirt until the pads of my fingers are against the soft flesh of her abdomen beneath. She has a habit of catching me off guard, but she stays still letting each bubbled scar rise under my fingers and dip back down when it hits a soft patch. She’s burning up, contradicting goosebumps that follow my touch.

---