Page 26 of Grave Games

He wasn’t too much for me, after all. Oh, no.

He wasperfect.

Fierce grunts began to sound from him, in time with every powerful thrust. His hips smacked audibly against me as he drove his cock into my depths all the way to his hilt. His movements were so savage, so powerful, they rocked my universe, shaking me apart until I came again just as he let out a hoarse groan that filled the room. His head flung back, and even in the dark I could see the tendons standing out in his neck.

In that moment, he was indescribably beautiful.

Breathless, he braced himself on the bed and pulled out before taking my legs from his shoulders. Then he fell over on his side, taking me with him, his arms wrapping me against his chest.

“There aren’t a lot of moments in my life that hit me as something I’ll never forget,” he said between breaths that were still as disturbed as my own. “This, being inside you and feeling you come… Swear to Christ, Shy, I’ll never forget tonight.”

Delight and something far deeper moved through me in a warm, sweet wave. Overwhelmed by it as much as him, I rested my brow on his bare chest covered with a tattoo I couldn’t see in the dark. “Even after all this, you’re still talking.”

“Damn right.” His huff of laughter mingled with mine as his arms tightened around me. “What can I say, I’m a chatty asshole. Get used to it.”

I laughed again and wrapped my arms around him to return his hug. “Okay.”

Chapter Nine

Chef

If only the world had stayed dark forever.

Despite working most days until midnight, I usually awoke with the first light of day. That was why, when wintry-pale gold light slipped in through my bedroom window, I opened my eyes with a stretch and a yawn.

And saw I was in bed with my worst nightmare.

The Chicago Gravediggers Motorcycle Club emblem, a scythe-carrying Grim Reaper etched onto a tombstone in the colors of black and green, was an image that was forever branded on my brain. That emblem meant pain. Fear. Humiliation. Ultimately wishing for death.

And it covered Romeo’s chest in a massive tattoo.

A near-soundless scream whispered from my clenched throat, and I jerked away from the poison of that tattoo and everything it stood for. The arms around me tightened, triggering me to fight with all my strength to get away.

“Whoa, Shiloh, wait—”

“No!” At last I ripped out of his arms and flew off the bed, grabbing my robe hanging off the footboard as I went. It wasn’t the Kevlar suit of armor I wanted, but it was better than nothing. “Get out, do you hear me? Get out, get outright now!”

Sleep-rumpled and naked, Romeo pushed the bedclothes aside and stood. “What the hell, Shy. Are you having a bad dream, or do you need to take some meds I don’t know about?”

Prick. “I want you out of this apartment and out of my life, you… fucking…Gravedigger.”

The effect that one word had on him was astonishing. In an instant his face changed from sleepy confusion to hard, cold murder. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“If you didn’t want me to know—and obviously you didn’t—you should have kept your shirt on.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes and he ran an absent hand down his chest as if to wipe away the damning evidence. “So what’s the big deal? That shitheel Radar basically gave it up that I was in a club. Who cares what name’s attached to it?’

“Oh, it’s a big deal, and you know it. You know it, because you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to hide that you’re a member of the Chicago Gravediggers,” I shot back, seeing it as clearly as the tattoo on his chest now that it was too late. “That stupid jacket with the weekend-warrior patches is the biggest clue that you were trying to trick me into thinking you were harmless, and certainly not a part of the Chicago Gravediggers. The question is why? What do you want from me? Does this have something to do with Marvel?”

If he’d looked dangerous before, dropping that name turned his expression positively demonic. “Marvel? Hades’s son?”

“Like you don’t know,” I scoffed, shrugging into my bathrobe and knotting the belt tightly around my waist, as if that would somehow make me less exposed. “Why else would you be here? Why else would you be so intent on fucking me, just like Marvel? Should I look around the apartment to see if you’ve got all your friends,my own goddamn brother, stashed away somewhere watching us just so I could be humiliated? God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I added on a sudden wave of self-hatred, hitting myself in the head hard just so I could feel punished. “You and Marvel, the only two men I ever allowed myself to show any interest in. Why am I attracted to trash?Why?”

“There’s going to come a day when you beg my forgiveness for comparing me to that fucking little prick,” he growled, at last realizing this was a moment that called for clothes. He yanked his jeans on, then shoved his feet into boots without bothering with socks. “And I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about when it comes to humiliating you. That fucker Marvel did that to you? Tell me.”

I bared my teeth. “You’re hisbrother. Ask him.”

“I’m not his brother and I don’t belong to the Chicago Gravediggers.”

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