Page 19 of Made For Ruin

He backed me up against the wall, kissed the shit out of me and then threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

I barely had time to gasp before he was striding out of the room with me dangling over his shoulder like some kind of prize.

Now, his shoulder is digging into my stomach while he carries me through The Summit’s back hallways.

My body melts at how small I feel in his grasp. I’ve never been touched like this before. Never felt small and delicate and completely owned by a single point of contact. Every flex of his fingers makes me throb in places I didn’t even know could ache like this.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask softly.

His massive hand slides higher on my thigh. “Home.”

I wriggle in his grip. “You can’t just kidnap me. I have things I need to do tonight. Important things.”

The possessive growl in his voice liquifies my insides.“Watch me.”

Marcus pushes through a set of heavy wooden doors, carrying me deeper into The Summit’s back hallways. The pounding bass fades as he takes a service corridor, then another.

A kitchen worker freezes mid-step as we pass, quickly averting his eyes. Two security guards straighten to attention, stepping aside without a word.

No one tries to stop us.

No one even looks surprised to see Marcus carrying a woman through the staff area.

The hallway narrows and slopes downward, industrial concrete replacing the polished floors. A blast of cold air hits us as Marcus shoulders through the metal service entrance into the loading dock.

Goosebumps rise along my bare legs as Marcus strides through the empty concrete expanse toward the employee parking lot. He carries me past sleek sports cars and luxury SUVs to a massive black truck.

To my surprise, his touch turns gentle as he sets me down in the passenger seat. He reaches past me to grab a blanket frombehind the seat. Something inside me cracks when he settles the blanket over my lap and tucks it around my bare legs.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I tell him.

As much as I love the warmth of the blanket and the way his hands linger just a moment too long, I can’t help but protest. It suddenly feels like too much.

But Marcus just tugs the blanket tighter around me and says, “Yes, I do.”

The look in his eyes is unreadable—intense, possessive, but there’s something else there too. Something that makes my stomach flip.

He slams the door shut and circles the truck, his boots crunching on the gravel. I watch him through the windshield, his broad shoulders cutting through the darkness as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

The engine roars to life, but I barely notice over the pounding of my heart. As we pull out onto the dark road, his hand slips under the blanket and finds my thigh again. This time, his grip feels less like claiming and more like anchoring, like he needs the contact as much as I do.

The rational part of my brain must be broken because all I want to do is curl into his warmth. My body keeps trying to lean toward him like he’s gravity, which is completely insane. Everything about this should terrify me, but instead, I’m fighting the urge to slide closer, to see if he’d wrap that massive arm around me.

Marcus’s voice cuts through the darkness.

“What were you doing at The Summit tonight?”

I swallow hard. I think about telling him the truth, but the words stick in my throat. How do I explain that I was there with Axel without making this even more complicated?

Instead, I deflect.

“You first. What were you doing there?”

His eyes stay fixed on the dark road ahead, but I see the corner of his mouth tick up.

“My friend Reign was working a job. I was helping him out.”

“What kind of job?”

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