Page 55 of Run From Me

The hollow feeling deep inside me disappeared with his feral, hungry kisses. I raised my hands against his chest, trying to push him away. I tried to hit him back, but he moved closer, pressing his massive body into me, and somehow the fight in me disappeared. Because this was everything. Nothing made sense. He didn’t want me. He’d ghosted me like everyone else in mylife. But here he was kissing me, and I could just pretend for a few more minutes that this was what I wanted.

God, I wanted to feel him again.

Damn if seeing him kill for me again didn’t have me wanting everything.

I wanted to feel whatever peace seemed to fill me by being near him. If that wasn’t just a fucked up little idea. A man that didn’t want me for anything more than information seemed to calm all the aching in my soul. And that right there was why I was letting him in for one bad choice after another.

His lips retreated and the pressure around my neck lessened just a bit. Enough that I gasped in air while our eyes met. He was leaning down, and it felt like he could see inside my soul.

“No one will ever touch you again,” he said in what sounded like a growl.

This made no sense.

“Touch me? Like brand me?” I wanted to remind him they had already done it. There was no point in doing it again. And fuck if I never wanted to be in that position again.

“No. I don’t mean just branding you.”

Fuck, those eyes of his. Dark, menacing, and some kind of hell that I’d sign up to be tortured in.

“Well, big guy, I hate to burst your bubble.” I thrust my finger into his solid chest with every following word, like it made me powerful. “You. Don’t. Own. Me.”

His nostrils flared for a single moment. His hand was still wrapped around my throat, and when he leaned into me, stealing all the remaining space, his tongue licked along the ridge of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine and heat straight to my pussy.

“The fuck I don’t, Sparky.” His words were a mere whisper.

I went to protest, but his hand squeezed just tight enough to cut off my words, and why was I already wet? Why was hisaggressive caveman bullshit such a damn turn-on? I’d get to unpack that shit the next time I could afford a therapist.

Instead? I fucking moaned as that other damn hand, which had no doubt left a bruise or five on my hip, moved and pressed against my clit through the thin leggings I was wearing.

“You have no idea, Calliope, what it means to be mine. I tried to warn you.”

I shuddered and not from fear. I wanted to poke the bear, so help me god. My voice was strained as I fought against his grip.

“I’m not yours, Xander.”

He shifted so I could see his face again, see all the unreadable, hard lines of someone I was certain earned his place in the Spectors through more than just some election.

I put my own mask on even as I fought against the damn moan that was fighting its way to my lips once he pressed just that much harder over my clit. It was like he knew my body better than even I did. He didn’t need to know that though. Or maybe the heat touching my cheeks said it all, but he wouldn’t be allowed to win.

I smirked. Because I’d lost my ever loving mind.

“Need a map, babe?”

Other than a muscle that ticked along his jaw he was unreadable.

“Hey,” I said, slamming my fists against his back as he threw me over his shoulder.

“You really think I need a map?”

His voice was dead flat, deep, and it should have set warning bells off, but it had me biting my lip as he stormed to my bedroom.

I bounced against my bed as he flopped me down. The leggings I’d worn for comfort were far too easy for him. His fingers were under the waistband and yanking them down in one quick motion.

“No panties?”

Fucking hell. He looked up at me as he threw the pants over his shoulder to the floor behind him, and then he started to crawl up the bed between my legs.

“Laundry day.” My voice was breathy and betrayed everything.

---