Page 39 of Darkness and Duress

“You're absolutely fucked in the head.”

“Pot, meet kettle.” I stood the bike upright and kicked the stand back in place. Reluctantly, Marco climbed onto the back and with a heavy heel, I kickstarted the bike and got us the fuck out of Dodge.

I pushed the bike to the redline, gunning it on straightaways and tucking low on corners until we were as far as possible from the storm I'd started. My adrenaline was pumping. Marco’s grip on my body was punishing, and the wind whipping over us was exhilarating. I lived for this kind of shit. I never wanted the thrill to end, but when Marco squeezed my thighs between his and pointed toward a closed gas station in the distance, I begrudgingly downshifted and pulled off the road. The high could only last so long. It was time to face the music.

Chapter Nineteen

Marco

I'd never moved faster than I had when I jumped off the back of Bran’s bike as soon as he stopped alongside the brick wall in the empty parking lot of a gas station. I was so fucking mad, I couldn't think straight. Mad. Irate. Livid. For so many different reasons. Moretti's men had started the spiral. Bran’s antics with my fucking gun only made it worse. The icing on the cake was the all-consuming need to keep him safe and how impossible that was. Sure, the idea had worked, but that didn't make it any less stupid. I wanted to wring his fucking neck. I also wanted to kiss him stupid, and that urge only made me angrier.

I whipped my helmet off and threw it to the ground, pacing a small circle as I checked my phone and sent half a dozen messages in as many seconds. The replies from my brother and Jericho only barely softened the edges of my rage. At least they were safe. I was safe. Bran was safe. Relief mixed with the residual anger as I continued to stalk the dark parking lot.

“You good?” Brandon. Bran with his smug smile and casual demeanor. Bran looking sexy as sin slung over the handlebars of the bike.

“No. No, I am not fucking good.” I reeled on him, advancing before I could think better of it. Proximity with Bran always made me do reckless impulsive things. He was well and truly burrowed under my skin and I couldn't excise him, even if I wanted to. Which I didn't, but he didn't need to know that.

“Talk me through it.” He sat up straighter before ultimately climbing off the bike to stand toe to toe with me. A hand landed on my chest and it was game over. I folded like a house of cards in a stiff breeze.

“Fuck you,” I groused, even as I pulled him into my arms and crushed him against my chest. “Fuck you, Brandon. Don't ever do something that stupid again.”

“Mm, ‘kay.” His arms wound around my waist and he chuckled into my neck. It sent a shiver down my spine. “Just a heads up though… I probably will.”

“Hate you.”

“I really don't think you do.”

My shaking hands traveled up his spine underneath the material of his jacket, aimlessly pawing and clinging as the fear and anger swirled in my system. Greedy for more, for reassurance I could never voice out loud, I inhaled his scent and held it deep in my lungs. If I could somehow absorb him into my body, I would. The dumb fuck would likely get himself killed one day if I didn't.

“Marc?”

I grunted a reply into the curve of his neck and took another deeply indulgent breath.

“We’re okay?”

“Yeah. I guess.” I reluctantly loosened my hold on him and pulled back to search his face in the low light. Gone wasthe smirk. Nowhere to be found was the smugness or lack of concern. My breath caught in my throat as I examined his expression to find only open, honest care and a nagging sense of worry amid the glittering reflection of a lone street light in his eyes.

“I'm sorry. I mean it. All I could think about was getting you out of their before—”

I grabbed his jaw and crashed our mouths together. I didn't need to hear more. He'd done exactly what I likely would have if the tables had been turned. Hell, my first impulse when the assholes surrounded us was to put myself in front of him. He’d done the exact same thing countless times before. Turns out, I wasn't pissedathim for what he did. I was pissed because he could have been hurt and I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it except to go down with him. I didn't need more words or excuses or apologies. I just neededhim.

His hands dug into my sides as I angled myself to better fuse our lips together, my tongue instantly invading his mouth as if I could consume him. We’d never kissed—hell, I hadn't kissed anyone in years. The second our mouths met and our tongues tangled, I hated myself for every missed opportunity to have done this sooner. A soft moan slipped from his lips to mine and it only fueled the fervor higher. I devoured the sound and was hungry for more. Famished. Desperate. Needy.

Bran was just as incensed, hands everywhere all at once as he pushed and shoved and manhandled me until my back hit the cold brick of the empty building. It forced another grunt from my chest as our lips parted, reunited, and parted again. I couldn't breathe but I didn't care. I didn't care at all. I'd gladly die if it meant more of this intoxicating bliss. Scowling, I spun us in place until it was Bran’s back to the wall and my body holding him there. Once I had him pinned, I dove right back into devouring his mouth.

Lips and teeth and tongues battled together, each of us taking turns nipping and sucking and trying to take back the control. The dance was a heady one. The brutal eroticism of voracious kissing had me hard as a rock and panting for more. So much so, I actually growled when he pulled away again, pushing a hand to my chest to hold me back from my onslaught.

“Stop… Marc…”

One single word was enough to pull the plug. I froze before recoiling, my hands flying back as though I'd touched something too hot and gotten burned. Panic tried to take hold as I scanned his features, desperate to find what I'd done wrong.

“Shit, baby, no… Jesus, Marc. You don't have to freak out…” Bran grabbed my shirt and hauled my body closer, nuzzling my jaw as he lowered his voice. “I was just going to tell you that I packed a bottle of lube in the back of the bike this morning. I didn't mean stop. I very much meant go, go, go.”

He might as well have been speaking a foreign language. My brain short circuited and my heart kicked up at the same time. Lube? Bike? What? Did he really mean what I thought he meant?

“Marc… lube. Get it. That was the hottest kiss of my entire fucking life and if I don't get your cock in my ass right this fucking second, my dick will explode.” He shoved at my chest with a feral grin.

“Jesus fuck,” I grumbled, stepping to the side enough to reach the small storage container strapped under the rear fender of the bike. Sure as shit, there was a bottle of lube inside, safety sealed and all. A frisson of excitement mixed with apprehension skittered through my body. Lacking my full faculties as the blood rushed from my head to my dick, I gruffly shoved the bottle into his hands.

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