Page 46 of Wilde and Deadly

“Why?”

“I told you,” she said, her voice husky with need. “It was never just sex.”

Something flickered in Davey’s eyes— a softening, a hint of the tenderness she’d seen before. But it was quickly replaced by steely determination.

“We’re not done here,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He kicked her legs apart, and she heard the rasp of his zipper. “But right now, I need to fuck you.”

She didn’t protest. She was aching for him. She constantly ached for him, and that was part of the problem, but now wasn’t the time for analyzing her feelings. He thrust into her hard, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke. She cried out, her body stretching to accommodate him.

He set a punishing pace, each thrust driving her harder against the wall. His fingers dug into her hips, sure to leave bruises, and her side ached, and she didn’t care. She pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, desperate for more.

“Is this what you wanted?” Davey growled in her ear. “To fuck the man you were supposed to kill?”

“No,” she gasped. “I wanted you. Just you.”

Davey’s rhythm faltered for a moment, then resumed even harder than before. One hand slid around to rub her clit in tight circles.

A shockwave of pleasure went through her, and her legs trembled, threatening to collapse under her. She had to brace herself against the wall to stay upright.

His clever fingers worked her clit, building her pleasure higher and higher. She could feel her orgasm approaching, a tidal wave ready to crash over her.

“Davey,” she gasped, “I’m close.”

He nipped at her earlobe. “Not yet. You don’t get to come until I say so.”

She whimpered in frustration but nodded. She knew this game well— the exquisite torture of being held on the edge. His thrusts became more erratic, his breathing ragged against her neck.

“Tell me again,” he demanded. “Why did you really take the contract?”

“To protect you,” she panted. “Because I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else hurting you.”

His grip tightened on her hip, his thrusts becoming more forceful. “And why is that? Why do you care if I live or die?”

The truth clawed its way up her throat, ripping past every wall she’d spent years reinforcing.

No. She couldn’t—she wasn’t ready.

But with Davey buried deep inside her, his hands gripping her like she belonged to him, like she was his, she wasn’t strong enough to hold it back anymore.

She had never been strong enough when it came to him.

“You know why,” she whispered.

“Say it.” His fingers increased their pressure on her clit. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Because...” she gasped, her body trembling right on the razor’s edge of release. “Because I love you, too, you stubborn asshole.”

Davey went still.

Completely. Utterly. Still.

His grip on her hip tightened, not rough, not punishing—just firm, anchoring, like he was afraid she’d vanish if he let go. For a long, agonizing second, he didn’t move.

Oh God. Had she said too much? Had she just?—

Then his body snapped back into motion. Harder. Deeper. More desperate than before.

“Say it again.”

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