Page 12 of Slash Me Savagely

“Matt…,” she breathed out slowly, an edge of uncertainty creeping into her tone.

I couldn’t let that doubt linger. Not when every part of me burned to claim what was mine—what should’ve been mine all along.

“Don’t make me wait,” I urged, every syllable coated in intensity. “Make your choice before it’s too late.”

The rink'schill bit into my skin as I stepped onto the ice, the familiar scratch of blades against the frozen surface grounding me. The taste of her still lingered on my tongue, a sweet and musky reminder of the morning's conquest. I could still feel the ghost of her touch, the echo of her moans resonating in my mind. It was a distraction I couldn't shake off, a hunger that gnawed at me, demanding more.

The guys were already warming up, their voices echoing through the vast, empty arena. Stick taps and the occasional burst of laughter punctuated the air, but it all faded into a dull hum, background noise to the symphony of memories playing in my head.

I joined the drills, my body moving on autopilot. The puck slid smoothly across the ice, my stick handling it with practiced ease.

But my mind was elsewhere.

It was back in that room, tangled in those sheets, lost in her scent. I was skating, shooting, scoring, but all I could think about was her. The way she responded to my touch, the way she came undone beneath me. It was intoxicating, addictive.

I needed more.

Coach blew his whistle, signaling a change in drills. I fell into line, my breath fogging up in the cold air. The intensity of the morning skate ramped up, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning within me. I was impatient, restless. I wanted the day to fast-forward, to skip the hours and minutes until I could be with her again.

Every pass, every shot was fueled by a raw, primal energy. I was playing like a man possessed, driven by a hunger that had nothing to do with the game. The guys noticed, exchanging glances and murmurs. They knew something was up, but they didn't know the half of it.

The whistle blew again, signaling the end of the skate. I was drenched in sweat, my heart pounding in my chest. But it wasn't enough. Not even close. I needed her. I needed to feel her, to taste her, to claim her again. And again. And again.

I hit the showers, the hot water scalding my skin. But it was a poor substitute for her touch. I dressed quickly, my mind already racing ahead, planning, scheming. I had to see her.

I had to have her.

And I wouldn't let anything stand in my way.

Chapter 9

Gemma

Ileaned against the cold wall, trying to catch my breath. Matthew would deal with Rob. I shivered, but not from the chill. I believed him. He would kill Rob if he had to.

I closed my eyes, trying to wrap my head around the intensity that radiated from Matthew. It was like a furnace, hot and consuming, but I couldn't understand it. Did he care for me? Or was I just a prize to be won, a possession to be protected? Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe I didn't want it to matter.

My body ached, a delicious soreness that spread from my hips to my toes. The things he had done to me...

I squeezed my eyes tighter, but that only intensified the memories.

His hands, rough and demanding, leaving trails of fire on my skin. His breath, hot and ragged, against my ear. His voice, deep and commanding, whispering words that made me blush even in the darkness of my closed eyelids.

I bit my lip, trying to suppress the heat that pooled in my belly. But it was no use. I could feel the wetness between my thighs, my body betraying me, craving him. I wanted him again. I wanted him to touch me, to take me, to make me his.

I opened my eyes, my breath coming in short gasps. My room was empty, the silence deafening. But I could still feel him, his presence lingering like a shadow. I hugged myself, my fingers digging into my arms. What was happening to me? Why did I want this so badly? Why did I wanthim?

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. But it was no use. I was already falling, already drowning in the intensity that was Matthew Sokolov. And I wasn't sure I wanted to be saved.

I pulled on my jeans, the denim rough against my sensitive skin. My hands trembled as I buttoned my shirt, the fabric brushing against the marks Matthew had left on me. I sat down at my desk, my thesis staring back at me, the words blurring into an incomprehensible mess. I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus, but my mind was a whirlwind, my body still humming with the echoes of Matthew's touch.

The sound of the front door opening jolted me from my thoughts. I turned to see Rob standing in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room, his gaze landing on me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

"I got home early," he said, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. "What happened, Gemma? Why..." He sniffed. "Why does it smell like sex? Why are you covered in hickeys?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I could feel the color draining from my face, my heart pounding in my chest.

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