Page 84 of Cold Carnage

I watched as Paige's jaw clenched and unclenched. The frustration was evident in every line of her body. It was clear that this wasn't just about work; it was about proving herself, about stepping out of whatever shadow had been cast over her by people who thought they knew better.

"Mom, I appreciate your concern, but I've got this," she said finally, forcing a calmness into her tone that belied the storm raging inside her.

Her mother sighed on the other end of the line. “I still remember what happened between you and that Sam from U of M, dear. He used you. He got caught in his own scandal with the sorority house and you had to clean up his mess, all while keeping the relationship quiet or else it would have completely ruined the team. And that’s not even mentioning what happened between you and Brendan–”

“Mom,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m handling it.Please.You have to trust me.”

"Just be careful, sweetie."

"I will," she replied before ending the call and dropping her head back against the seat with a heavy exhale.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The tension in the car had shifted slightly but not dissipated.

"We're almost there," she muttered after a long pause.

I looked at her profile illuminated by passing streetlights and felt something twist inside me—a blend of anger and protectiveness that I couldn't shake off even if I wanted to.

We pulled up to Paige's apartment building, a modest brick structure. She parked the car, and we both sat there for a moment, neither of us moving. The silence was thick, suffocating.

We climbed out of the car and headed up together in silence. The only sound was the echo of our footsteps against the worn concrete steps. I noticed her fingers tremble slightly as she fumbled with the keys before unlocking the door.

The apartment was small but cozy. The living room was directly ahead, furnished with a worn-out couch covered in a colorful throw blanket, a coffee table cluttered with magazines and papers, and a small TV perched on an old wooden stand. The walls were adorned with framed photos—Paige with friends, family gatherings, snapshots of moments that seemed frozen in time.

To the left was a compact kitchen, separated from the living room by a counter. It looked functional but lived-in; dishes were stacked in the sink, and various spices lined a small shelf above the stove. A potted plant sat on the windowsill, its leaves stretching toward the light filtering through thin curtains.

"Make yourself at home," she said softly, gesturing toward the couch.

I nodded and sat down, feeling the worn cushions give way beneath me. Paige turned, probably to head to the kitchen, when something inside me snapped. Before I could think twice, I grabbed her wrist and yanked her to me. She stumbled, eyes wide with surprise, and fell onto my lap.

For a second, I thought she might push me away, the tension between us crackling like electricity. Her breath hitched, and I could see the wariness in her eyes. But then, without warning, she lunged for me. Her lips crashed against mine with a fervor that matched the storm brewing inside both of us.

The kiss was hungry, desperate. Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as if she needed this connection as much as I did. My arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tight against me. The world outside faded away; there was only the heat of her body pressed against mine and the taste of her lips igniting a fire I couldn’t control.

Our breaths mingled in a chaotic dance as we explored each other with an urgency that spoke of unspoken desires and unresolved tensions. Every touch, every movement was a silent plea for more—more connection, more understanding, more of whatever this was between us.

Her nails grazed my scalp, sending shivers down my spine. I deepened the kiss, savoring the way she responded to every touch. It wasn’t just about the physical; it was about breaking down walls and finding something real.

I could barely contain myself. My hands moved with a mind of their own, gripping her shirt and tearing it open. Buttons flew across the room, bouncing off the walls and scattering like tiny meteors. Paige's eyes widened for a moment before the hunger in them mirrored my own.

We shed our clothes in a frenzied rush, tossing them aside until nothing separated us. My gaze traveled over her bare skin, every curve and dip more mesmerizing than I’d imagined. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling with each exhale.

I took one of her breasts into my mouth, sucking and nibbling at her nipple until she moaned. The sound sent a jolt straight to my core, making my cock throb with need. My arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer until our bodies were flush against each other.

The heat between us was almost unbearable. I could feel the slickness of her arousal against my skin, the way she trembled under my touch. Her fingers dug into my shoulders as if she needed to anchor herself to something solid.

“Ryker,” she breathed out, her voice a mix of desperation and desire.

Hearing my name on her lips only fueled the fire inside me. I shifted slightly, positioning myself between her legs and feeling the undeniable heat radiating from her core. She arched into me, seeking more contact, more friction.

My hands roamed over her body, mapping out every inch of skin as if committing it to memory. She was everything I didn’t know I needed—soft yet strong, yielding yet defiant. Her nails raked down my back, leaving trails of sensation that only heightened my need for her.

I slid inside her, and the sensation was overwhelming. Her heat enveloped me, a tight, wet embrace that felt like nothing I'd ever experienced. It was like coming home and being set on fireall at once. The way her body clung to mine, the way she gasped and arched beneath me, it drove me wild.

We moved together, a rhythm as old as time. Every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through my body, and I could feel her responding in kind. Our breaths mingled, our moans filling the room with a symphony of need and desire.

"You're mine," I growled against her ear, my voice rough with possession. "No one else can have you."

Paige's nails dug into my back, urging me on. "Ryker," she panted, her voice trembling with pleasure.

---