Page 34 of Grave Games

The last word ended on a squeak as he abruptly picked me up, turned and threw me on the newly made bed. I landed with a bounce, but before I could move he was on me, pressing me into the mattress.

“You’re trying to play games with me now, is that it?” he growled, almost nose to nose with me. God help me, my mouth parted when I felt his breath feather across my lips, and my skin blazed with heat wherever he touched.Damn it, not now, you stupid body. “Are you trying to piss me off so much I retaliate by treating you like shit, the way Marvel treated you? Because that’s never going to work. I’ve never raised a hand to a woman in my life and I sure as hell never had to force myself on a woman, and I’m not gonna start now. But I swear to Christ, you compare me to fuckingMarvelagain, I will be sorely tempted.”

“You used me, Romeo, just like Marvel did to get close to my brother,” I barreled on rashly. He didn’t get the right to think he was somehow better than the last man who’d played stupid Gravedigger games with me. “You straight-up targeted me. When you first showed up at the diner, you weren’t wearing a cut or anything else that declared you were a Gravedigger, and now I know why. If I’d even glimpsed anything referencing the Gravediggers, I would have run a country mile to get away from you, and you knew it.”

“I only knew what a few former brothers of the Chicago Gravediggers said about Chef, who’d come into the fold about a year or so after I left,” he contradicted, shaking his head. “There was a story that he’d been forced to join, so no one knew what his feelings were when it came to loyalty to the club. Then we got word that Chef wanted to leave, and someone mentioned your name as a possible point of contact. Tyr decided I should go in like a civilian in case you had any ties or loyalties to the Chicago Gravediggers. All I was supposed to do was to get the lay of the land and see if I could get close enough to Chef to find out whether or not he wanted out. I’m glad I did, and I guarantee I’d do it again.”

“Because come to find out, Josh is just the sort of weak link you were looking for.” I nodded mockingly. “Good for you.”

“I’d do it again because that decision would lead me to this moment, lying on top of you in your bed, trying to calculate whether or not I have the time to fuck you good and proper while Tyr and your brother wait for me right outside your door.”

It was a wonder my eyes didn’t pop out of my head. “Don’t you dare.”

“Yeah, there’s not enough time, not to mention I don’t want to bring back any shitty memories you might have about what that fucker Marvel did to you when you were in the Rumpus Room.” Despite his words, his hand moved between us and found its way underneath the black watch plaid skirt I wore. Instantly I bemoaned my decision not to wear several layers of clothing or possibly armor when he pushed aside my panties. “All I have time to do is give you a little reminder that you enjoy me just as much as I enjoy you.” With that, he slid a finger into my depths while his thumb unerringly landed on my clit.

Ooh.

Ooh.

“Tell me to stop, Shy girl,” he whispered in that velvety sex voice I’d reveled in the night before. His eyes were close to mine, watching me, and watching just how much I liked what he was doing to me. “Tell me you don’t want me finger-banging you. Tell me you don’t want me to make you come right here, right now, with me watching how much you love what I’m doing to you. Come on. Tell me to stop.”

“I…” My hips were already undulating, rubbing hard against his hand while my breath hitched at the addictive friction we were creating. “I can’t.”

His thumb mercilessly circled over my clit while he inserted a second finger, massaging me from within until I couldn’t help but writhe with building pleasure. “Why not?”

“You know.” The sweet tension ballooned inside, threatening to blow me apart. “You know.”

“Hell, yeah, I do, but I want you to know it, too. Why can’t you tell me to stop, baby? Say it.”

He was going harder on me now. Faster. It was glorious. “I want this.”

“You wantthis.” My heart almost broke when his hand abruptly stilled, leaving my body screaming for more as he glared down at me. “You take pleasure from my hands, from my cock, and you accept me into your bed like the greatest wet dream I’ve ever had. Yet you only say you wantthis, and notme?”

I stared up at him, breathless. Damn, he’d caught that. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“If it doesn’t matter, you won’t have a problem saying it.”

Goddamn it. “Romeo—”

“Tell me you want me to make you come, Shiloh.”

The sound of my swallow echoed between us. “I want to come.”

His hand began to retreat. “Everyone wants that, so don’t play games with me, woman. Tell me you want me, or I’m gone. I guarantee it.”

“No.” The word shot out of me before it was even a thought in my head. “I…”

He stilled, his eyes burning over me. Hungry. Yearning. “I’m waiting.”

To my horror, I could feel my defenses dissolving under the weight of my need. “This is just a hit-and-run seduction,” I whispered, trying to soothe my growing panic. “Once it’s done it’s done, so…yes, Romeo. I want you. I want you to make me come.”

“Funny thing about hit-and-runs,” he murmured, looking down at me. “One way or another, they change lives forever.” Then he smiled, as if he was really looking forward to that, and moved his hand once more.

I tried. Swear to God, I tried not to show him how much I wanted his touch. I tried not to show him how utterly in thrall I was with him. I tried telling myself that allowing him close enough to give me this kind of pleasure—and allowing myself to enjoy it—didn’t matter.

But it did.

To allow him this close meant there was a level of trust there that had grown without my noticing. I was helpless now, vulnerable in ways I never allowed myself to be, and completely in his hands both figuratively and literally.

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