Adrenaline Heat Page 6

  He placed his hands next to her shoulders, caging her in. “Because you knew exactly how to push my buttons. Making me chase you bound me even closer to you than any cheap, fast lay. He stroked the outside of her right thigh, his fingers slowly moving to her inner thigh. The light touch instantly lit her skin ablaze, and the atmosphere changed between them. He still wore a dangerous frown, and his breaths were too regular. Too controlled. She squirmed at his touch as her own breathing picked up.

  He leaned in, and a dangerously low whisper caressed her ear. “So, tell me, did you spread those lovely thighs of yours for anybody else for GovCorp?”

  He could have just as well dumped a bucket of dishwater over her head. Her hands curled until her nails dug into her palms. A sudden need for violence took her by surprise. It almost seemed to be infectious in this place. “Of course not, you self-righteous hypocrite.” Her swing was wild, aimed straight for his face with all her strength. But he didn't move to catch her wrist, didn't even bat an eyelash. He just took the blow like it was nothing.

  Pain shot through her hand and up her arm. She hissed and shook it for a moment.

  A corner of his mouth quirked, but his eyes grew colder. If that was even possible. “Go ahead, baby, give it your best shot.” Behind the ice, a glimmer of pain flashed, and she touched his cheek in an attempt to soften both their emotions. “Oliver, I was in a fix. But I love you. It was only you. It was always only you I wanted,” she whispered.

  After running and hiding with her sister for so many years, in the end, she’d had to crawl to GovCorp for help. It was the toughest decision she’d ever had to make. But without GovCorp, Lexi would already be dead. She’d do things differently now, but back then, deceiving Oliver seemed to be the only choice she had.

  His lips were still dangerously close to hers, his body heated steel surrounding her, caging her in—a prison she never wanted to be freed from.

  “You don’t want me when I’m like this.” His voice was rough, but his scent was like oxygen to her heart.

  She whispered in the crook of his neck, “I want you no matter what.” Then she looked him in the eye. “And I told you a thousand times to stop treating me like a china doll.”

  Their eyes met, and for a moment, they were frozen that way, breathing each other's air.

  “If you didn't want gentle, you should have said so.” A wildness he’d always trapped when around her pierced his serious expression. His voice dropped to a low whisper. “Have it your way then.” He pinned her wrists above her head with one of his hands. Prickles of panic and excitement rose inside her as his jaw hardened and a glint of fury caught in his eyes before they shuttered. He cupped her jaw and angled her head. Then his mouth locked onto hers, and his tongue dove in, stroking deep and curling around hers. But just when she relaxed into him, he abruptly ended the kiss, leaving her panting through half-open lips. His strong hand cupped the back of her neck, and he maneuvered her toward the doorway.

  Her pulse jumped instantly. He’d never handled her like this before. Unyielding. Possessive.

  He wrenched open the door with so much force that it hit the wall and fell shut behind them after he'd nudged her over the doorstep.

  An ominous click followed.

  Her heart pounded against her chest.

  He'd locked them in.

  Her gaze darted across the room. Small, dingy, dark. Some sort of office judging from the big metal desk a few steps behind her.

  For a second, fire flared in his gaze, and his focus zeroed in on her chest, then jumped to her eyes and held them as if she was all that existed in his world.

  Tension thickened around them, and he walked her three steps backward until she hit the desk.

  “Take the coat off.” His voice was rough and low, prompting her nerve endings to sizzle.

  She’d barely slipped the heavy fabric from her shoulders as he pulled it down her arms and threw it on the chair in front of the desk. Then he grabbed her thighs and lifted her up to sit on the edge of the desk. He knocked her knees apart and stepped between her legs before his hand slid behind her knees and wrenched her forward until her sex collided with his. The momentum triggered her to wrap her arms around his neck to keep upright.

  His pupils dilated, and he pressed against her.

  Hard. Hot.

  She couldn't suppress a hoarse moan as his hands shoved up her skirt, his fingers inching over the exposed skin above her over-the-knee socks.

  Excitement shot through her, and her inner muscles clenched when his rough fingertips slid inside her damp panties.

  He sucked in a breath as he felt her wetness and murmured into her hair. “Really, baby? That turned on? Do you like to see me bashing in somebody's head? Or do you like to see them making me bleed?”

  His harsh words jerked her back to reality, and she knocked his hand away. “No. Of course not.”

  “Maybe you just like to see me broken, then,” he murmured, a flash of pain crossing his features.

  Oh, no. He couldn’t really think that. She tried to tell him again how sorry she was, but his mouth crashed down on hers with angry determination. His tongue curled around hers, sending tremors of anticipation through her muscles, silencing the urge to talk.

  Undeterred, he reached for her panties again, and a flick of his wrist was all it took to rip the fabric. His fingers found her clit, and he applied pressure that sent a surge of electricity through her system. He reached behind her, and papers whirred through the air, something heavy plunged down to her right. Maybe the notebook. She didn’t care.

  He shoved down his red-and-black trunks, and his thick erection sprang free. “No more games,” he rumbled against her ear. One hand went up to her back, and with the other hand, he manacled her hip, holding her in place.

  Heat followed her initial shock, and desire slammed through her body and pulsed hot between her legs. He'd always been passionate, but this was different. Raw intensity replaced the gentle care she was used to from him. He’d always kept himself in check. In control.

  And she'd always wished that just once, she could make him lose it.

  A faint voice in her head whispered that tempting him here, in the only place where he allowed himself to completely lose control, might have been a mistake. He'd show her no mercy. But instead of scaring her, the thought ignited a raw desire deep inside of her.

  He pushed her back on the desk and climbed on top, shoving her further back on the cool surface until he kneeled over her. His eyes shuttered, and he lowered his body onto hers.

  She dug her nails into his back as he entered her in one powerful stroke, going deep. This was nothing like the tender lovemaking she was used to from him. He was claiming her body as if it was his to take.

  And it was.

  A toneless whisper escaped her lips. “Oliver.”

  He thrust into her as if his name on her lips had only stoked the simmering rage inside of him. He lifted her legs, and she clamped them around his hips as his hard body pinned her into place. While his thrusts were rough, his thumb on her clit was gentle.

  He shoved up her top and bra with his other hand and sucked one of her nipples into the heat of his mouth, coaxing a loud moan from her lips.

  All her senses ablaze, she pressed her ankles into his firm ass, urging him on. His lips found her other nipple, and the pulsing in her groin spread out into her limbs. Too much.

  Groaning, he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back into her as his thumb found her clit again and pressed down hard.

  A hoarse scream exploded from her mouth as pleasure cut through her, and her body spasmed while he continued to take her hard. Thrusting even faster. A growl rumbled in his chest, and he ground into her once more, filling her insides with heat.

  As the last waves of ecstasy washed through her, her body went limp, and her ankles dropped from his hips.

  Holding her tightly, his muscles went rigid, his rib cage tightening and expanding against her oversensitive skin. But no so
und escaped him.

  Something ached deep inside of her as she remembered how he used to groan her name when he came, as if she was everything and anything he needed.

  Guilt and sadness formed a big lump in her throat.

  Panting hard, he pulled his hands away from her and pushed up from the desk.

  Immediately, cool air assaulted her sweaty skin and chilled it into goose bumps.

  But it was the anguished look in his eyes that made her shiver.

  “Get dressed,” was all he said to her before he pulled up his trunks and turned away from her.

  Swallowing, she slid off the desk and adjusted her dress. Her lips pulsated and ached from his rough taking, but it was nothing in comparison to the pain she felt for hurting him. This hadn’t been the hate fuck it could have easily turned into, but it hadn’t exactly been makeup sex either. And how could sex—even the best sex ever—possibly make up for what she’d done to him? He might still want her, but she had a sinking feeling he wouldn’t trust her again.

  She sighed and shook her head at herself. This had been a mistake. She shouldn’t have given in to her desires, but she’d been desperate to feel closer to him again. She’d ached for the connection and hoped he'd feel it too once they were passionate again. But staring at his steely back now, she feared the rift between them had only widened.

  He picked up her coat from the chair and held it out to her, frustration and something else vibrating with his toneless voice. “Go home. Just go home, please.”

  “Oliver, we need to talk. I know this isn’t the right place or the best timing—”

  “You shouldn’t have come here.” His voice was a barely audible whisper as he unlocked the door and wrenched it open. Before she could say another word, he nudged her out the door. The heavy thud as it fell closed behind them only emphasizing that this conversation was over before it ever started.

  He encircled her wrist, giving her no choice but to follow him as he led her back into the club.

  Most of the patrons jumped out of his way. Others, he shoved as he pulled her along toward the exit. None, however, dared to complain.

  She couldn’t see his face, but his posture alone radiated one word: grim. In the background, the speakers announced the next fight. At first, she didn’t listen, but then Oliver’s name registered.

  Oliver cursed and sped toward the exit with her in tow.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” an angry voice barked from their left.

  Oliver stopped abruptly, and Luna peeked around his shoulder. A huge guy in yellow trunks lunged in Oliver’s way. “You trying to bail on me?”

  From her peripheral vision, she noticed Max heading toward them, taking in the scene with a frown.

  Oliver gave him a quick nod and nudged Luna in his direction.

  Then he positioned himself between his opponent and her. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Her eyes followed the motion as Oliver pointed toward the cage. A bloodied, unconscious fighter was just being lifted onto a stretcher. “This is you in two minutes.”

  Luna couldn’t believe it. “Another fight tonight? You can’t be serious.”

  Ignoring the vile curses of his red-faced opponent, Oliver threw her an annoyed sideways glance. “What? This is part of my life. A part I tried to keep from you.” He inhaled deeply. “You decided to come here.” Pulling up his eyebrows, he turned to Max. “Take her back to the compound?”

  Max didn’t look happy but gave Oliver a thumbs-up.

  What were they thinking? Luna’s gaze jumped between the two men. “Hey, I’m right here, and I decide if and when I leave.” In a softer voice, she added, “Oliver, please come back to the compound with us.”

  Ignoring her, Oliver threw Max a dark look. “Get her out of my face.” Then he made his way to the ring, his fuming opponent on his heels.

  “Come on, let’s go.” Max put a hand on Luna’s shoulder, and she reluctantly fell into step with him as they walked toward the exit. Staying wouldn’t make any sense now. She didn’t want to see Oliver getting hurt, and if she stayed, she’d only make things worse for both of them.

  Max’s blue-gray eyes looked sympathetic. “Seems like you tamed the beast, just to unleash it again.”

  Luna’s shoulders slumped. “He hates me.” And everything inside of her screamed she deserved it.

  Max zipped his black jacket and pressed his lips together for a moment. “I think he wouldn't act like this if he didn't still have feelings for you.”

  “Or maybe he really hates my guts. Hate’s a pretty strong feeling, you know.”

  Max angled his head to the side and lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, or that.”

  Despite everything, a small smile tugged at her lips. “Not helping, Max. Not helping.”

  Max’s expression got serious. “Look, I’m sorry how things went. Maybe I shouldn’t have shown that video to Oliver. Maybe I should have given you a chance to talk to him first.”

  They reached the exit, and he held the door open for her before he followed her outside.

  “I appreciate that, but I don’t think it would have made a difference. This is on me. It wasn’t your fault.” She’d never really had a chance to talk to Max before, but she liked his quieter personality. Max was from a different gene pool than Oliver and his brother, Jake. He had no adrenaline issues, and as much as she knew, his batch had been created and trained to use different, stealthier warfare tactics. She had no doubt though that he’d be just as deadly as the rest of Derek’s team, if necessary.

  Huddling deeper into her coat, she followed his lead until they reached his black pickup on a side street. “I just wish Oliver would talk to someone. Do you know if he talked to Derek or Jake about what happened?”

  Max opened the passenger door for her and shook his head. “No, but I don’t know him that well. Do you think he wants to talk?”

  Pulling up her skirt a little, she climbed into the truck’s cabin. Unfortunately, she could answer his question immediately. “No. I don’t think so.”

  “I can try to talk to him when I get a chance.” Max got behind the wheel and started the truck.

  “Thanks. I’d really appreciate that.” Rubbing her cold hands in front of the heating vent, she threw another look at the club building as they went past. She needed to find a way to get through to Oliver before he got seriously hurt. And she needed to find a damn good excuse for Lewis why Oliver wouldn’t accompany her to Barbados.

  After his last fight, Oliver made his way from the cage back to the office where he’d been with Luna only minutes before. The fight was finished in a matter of seconds, as Oliver had predicted. He didn’t have the nerve to fuck around with his opponent when only Luna was on his mind. But he’d been distracted, which had earned him at least one broken rip. He could still sense the ghosts of her hands on his skin, and a whiff of her cranberry shampoo still teased his nostrils. Her embrace had felt like coming home, and his traitor of a body had instantly wanted her back. The moment she’d melted into him when he kissed her in the doorway, he knew he’d lost the night’s most significant battle.

  In passing, he nodded to Maddie behind the bar.

  She held out a bottle of Jack to him. “You look like you need a shot or three.”

  Oliver held out his hand and shook his head. “I’m good. Maybe later. I just need water.”

  “Water it is.” She ducked behind the counter and shoved a bottle in his direction.

  “Thanks, Maddie.” He grabbed the chilled bottle and held it to his aching rib cage, striding toward the back office. He needed to be on his own for a minute before he changed and headed home. The first thing he noticed entering the stale room was that it still smelled like Luna. Still smelled like her and him. Together. He rubbed the back of his neck. Taking her in his adrenaline haze had been a mistake, but she’d always been his only weakness. Apparently, she was a lesson he had to learn the hard way. Frustration clawed through him. He sucked in a breath, deep enough to ma
ke his broken rib ache. She’d smelled so damn good.

  Like everything he lost. Like everything she’d taken from him.

  He closed the door and leaned against it. And now she seriously wanted him to go to Barbados? He couldn’t even hold it together here when neither she nor GovCorp staff was around. How the hell could he make it through a three-day-retreat with more than five hundred pairs of GovCorp’s eyes on them? He closed his own strained eyes, trying to figure out what to do. He couldn’t just leave her sister’s fate to Lewis and his scientists. He knew all too well what it meant to be at their mercy. He unscrewed the cap and set the water bottle to his lips, gulping down the cold liquid until there wasn’t a single drop left. Then he tossed the bottle in the trash can underneath the desk and picked up the notebook that had tumbled to the ground when he couldn’t get Luna underneath himself fast enough. At least the thing didn’t seem to be broken. It belonged to the club’s owner, a fellow GV Oliver didn’t want to piss off. He needed the club too much.

  Plopping down on the high-backed rolling chair, he put his head in his hands. Whatever Luna had done, he knew it was to save her sister. Not to hurt him. He got that. But it was hard to think straight with all the rage inside. He wasn’t so much mad at Luna, but rather at himself for falling head over heels for the first pretty face that showed more than sexual interest in him. He probably would have noticed earlier that something was off, if he hadn’t been so taken by the idea that a tenderhearted, natural woman like Luna could love someone like him. He shook his head. Even when he started noticing inconsistencies in her behavior, he told himself that everything was fine. Straightening, he leaned against the chair’s backrest. No, Luna wasn't really the one that hurt him; he hurt himself by giving her that kind of power over him. The angry part of him hated her for showing him what it could have been like if their marriage was real. But the worst thing was another part of him loved her regardless of what she’d done. He pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled to himself, “I'm seriously fucked up.”