Page 30 of Deadly Oath

Grabbing my phone, I scroll quickly down to her name, typing out a message as I sink down onto the bench.

Kian:I want to see you. I’ve been giving you space, but I can’t wait. Can I come over?

It’sdirect and to the point—maybe too much so, but I can’t think straight enough right now to formulate something better. The screen is dark for several long moments, and I start to wonder if she’s just going to ignore me. If that first night was too much, and she’s decided to ghost me until I forget about her altogether.

As if that’s even possible.

I can no more forget Sabrina than I could forget my own name.

My phone buzzes, and I swipe up on the screen, ignoring the painful jolt in my hand. Sabrina’s name shows up, and my chest tightens—along with my cock.

Sabrina:Yes. Come over.

Sabrina:I wanted to see you, too.

I’mup off of the bench in a split second, heading towards my truck. The sane part of my mind is shouting somewhere in the back of it that I should go home first, that I need to get cleaned up before I go to see Sabrina. Theprincessnickname is mostly to get under her skin, but I’m not surewhather actual reaction will be if I show up on her doorstep with another man’s crusted blood on me. She might throw me out, and then what? Either I refuse to go, or I end up at home coming into my fist, anyway.

My entire body reacts to that thought, revolting against it withevery fiber of myself. It’s more than just a want—Ineedher tonight. I need to claim what I’ve decided was mine.

I start up the truck with every intention of heading home first, getting a shower, and putting on clean clothes that aren’t my workout shorts and a t-shirt. But halfway there, I realize I didn’t head towards my house at all.

I’m headed for Sabrina’s, and by the time I realize it, I can’t bring myself to turn around. It feels like a magnet, like hooks sunk into me and pulling me towards her, and I find myself stepping down on the gas instead, speeding up in an urgent effort to get to her faster. I’m rock hard, my body tight with an insistent need that feels as if it’s taken me over, and I veer into her driveway when it appears, killing the engine the moment the truck rolls to a stop.

I take the steps up to her door two at a time, trying the knob even though I know it’s going to be locked. To my surprise, it gives, and I realize she must have unlocked it once she knew I was on my way over.

Somehow, that only intensifies the desire pounding through my veins. I shove the door open, closing it hard behind me, only to look up and see Sabrina walking out from the kitchen, a nervous look on her face.

“I heard your truck,” she says slowly, and a shiver runs down my spine as I see her teeth graze over her full, pink lower lip. Her gaze sweeps over me, taking me in, and a look of fearful concern replaces the worry. “Kian, what happened?—”

Something snaps inside of me, that roaring in my ears blocking out anything else she might say, and I cross the room in three quick strides, my arm going around her waist as I pull her up against me, my other hand in her hair as I tug her head back.

And then, not caring about the painful cut on my mouth, I crush my lips against hers.

13

SABRINA

I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to how hungry Kian feels, every time he touches me.

When his mouth covers mine, his tongue stroking along the seam of my lips insistently, I forget for a moment that he’s bloody and bruised, his hair slicked back like it was either wet or sweaty and has started to dry, wearing a pair of workout shorts with blood splatter on them and a t-shirt. I don’t know what happened to him, or what’s going on, but all possible questions die on my lips as he kisses me like a starving man.

He looks primal, almost animalistic, standing there, and he’s kissing me the same way, his hands roving over my shirt and down to the waist of my jeans as his hands find their way underneath the fabric.

He’s all need, and it rouses the same in me. Questions that Ishouldbe asking pound through my head, but they keep getting lost in the fog of desire that springs up the moment I feel his rough palms against my skin, the moment those hands slide back down to grip my ass and pull me in hard against his taut body.

I suck in a breath at the feeling of his erection pressing into my thigh. He feels almost harder than last time, if that’s possible, and ashis tongue pushes into my mouth, stealing my breath, I have no idea what’s about to happen.

His hands curl under the curve of my ass, picking me up and crushing me to him as he turns in the direction of my bedroom. My legs go around him without thinking, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he keeps kissing me, his tongue tangled with mine as he staggers down the hallway toward the bedroom.

He must be hurting. His hands, his lip—he must be in pain, I don’t see how he’s not, but it doesn’t seem to matter to him. Every time I try to break the kiss, he captures my mouth again, teeth in my lip, tongue tangled with mine, almost as if he’s desperate not to stop.

It’s not until he spills me back onto the bed, hovering over me as he starts to yank up my t-shirt, that I manage to twist my mouth away from his.

“Kian, what happened?” I gasp, one palm against his chest as I meet his dark, lust-wild eyes. “You’re cut and bruised—what’s going on? Did someone hurt you?”

He shakes his head, his reddish-brown hair falling into his face as he looks down at me. “No,” he manages, his hands stilling on my shirt, pressed against my sides as he leans over me, one knee between mine. When my gaze flicks down, I can see his cock tenting his shorts, that thick ridge pushing outwards, straining for relief.

Arousal pools between my thighs, hot and urgent, and I’m tempted to ask questions later. To ask him to do what he did with his tongue again, so I can feel that exquisite pleasure.

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