Chapter THREE
EM
Liam stepped out of the room and I shivered, so excited I could hardly exist. This was better than I’d hoped. He was better than I’d hoped. So incredibly cute, he made me feel amazing, and best of all? He didn’t seem particularly interested in talking about my father.
That last one was a biggie.
I pulled out my phone—I wanted to get back to the room, but I’d promised I wouldn’t go alone. I pulled up Sophie’s number, my fingers fumbling, although I couldn’t decide if it was from the drinks or the excitement.
ME: I want to go back to the hotel. He’s defintely THE ONE
SOPHIE: Dont u dare! We have to chck him out frist. Ur NOT follwing the plan
ME: Yu’ll meet him in a minut come down to Mick’s and we can head from there. We’ll wait outside.
I slid my phone into my pocket, then hugged myself, rubbing my arms up and down quickly. I still couldn’t quite believe all this was happening. I’d met Liam and he was fantastic. Sexy. Beautiful. Even sweet . . .
More important than that, though—he had an edge. An edge like the guys I’d grown up with, and that was critical. Ultimately, I couldn’t be with someone who couldn’t handle my MC family. Liam could, I was almost certain of it.
Not that I was stupid—I knew it might not turn into anything.
But it might. Tonight I’d finally get to see for myself what all the fuss was about. Funny, but Painter had actually done me a favor in the end. If he’d gone for it, I might be with him right now instead of Liam. And while I hadn’t known Liam all that long, I felt a connection with him that I’d never felt for Painter.
Painter was a fantasy, a dream about what could be. Had I ever even had a real conversation with him? I couldn’t remember anything that went past casual. But Liam was real. Liam wanted me as much as I wanted him, and while there was no question things were physically intense between us, I knew there was more to it than that. We’d connected from hundreds of miles apart. I could tell him anything and he made me laugh, and the fact that he was hot as hell was just the icing on the cake.
I had a feeling I’d have fallen for Liam if he’d been shorter than me with a gut and a hairy back.
That was a theory I’d have to go without testing, poor me. Liam in person was sexier than I’d ever imagined, and I had a very good imagination. The office door opened and he stepped back in, giving me a burning, intense look that made me wet.
“You’re beautiful, Em,” he said. “One more kiss, okay?”
Yeah, wasn’t gonna argue with that.
He pulled me into his arms and his lips covered mine, tongue sliding deep inside. He was almost brutal in his intensity, burying himself in my mouth.
Then he broke loose.
“Let’s go.”
“I need to wait for my friends,” I said. “I texted them while you were making your call. We’re supposed to meet them out front.”
“Kimber and Sophie, right?” he asked. “How well do you know them?”
“Um, not that well, actually,” I said. “Sophie is sort of weirdly involved with Ruger. It’s complicated. Kimber’s her friend. They’re really nice, and lots of fun. But I don’t think either of them really counts as available, if you’re thinking of the guy who came with you?”
He shook his head.
“No worries,” he said. “Hey, while we wait do you mind running out to my van with me? I want to grab a bag. Toothbrush, that kind of shit.”
I felt my cheeks heat up. He needed that stuff because we were spending the night together. Me. Spending the night with him. Damn. Why couldn’t I be all cool instead of dorky?
“Sure,” I told him. “We have a couple minutes.”
Liam took my hand and walked me down the back hall.
“There’s parking out back?” I asked.
“Employees only,” he told me. “Mick doesn’t mind, though. We go way back.”
He opened the back door, popping out the deadbolt so the door couldn’t fully close behind us. Then he tugged me toward a black cargo van.
His friend stepped out from behind it. I smiled at him, then looked at Liam, expecting him to introduce us.
He didn’t.
The other man moved toward me, his face grim. This wasn’t right. Not right at all. Deep inside my head an alarm bell blared, complete with flashing red lights. As long as I could remember, my parents had taught me to trust my instincts, and every instinct I had told me to get the hell out of here.
Liam was up to something. F*ck. Too good to be true. Just my luck.
How to do it? The door behind us was still open, but I wasn’t sure anyone in that particular bar would help me, even if I made it inside. I glanced down the alley—we were midway through the block and loud music filled the air from a nightclub next door. Screaming would be useless.
I had to get out of this narrow passage and find some witnesses.
I pretended to stumble, then knelt down as if I were fixing my shoe. Instead I undid the straps so I could step out of them when I took off. At least the alley was paved . . . Maybe I wouldn’t cut up my feet too bad? I was gonna look like a real dumbass if this was nothing.
Pisser.
“You okay?” Liam asked. I looked up at him and smiled sweetly.
“I’m fine—just need to fix my strap,” I told him. Then I took a deep breath, rising slightly into a runner’s start, and took off down the alley, my gorgeous f*ck-me pumps left behind. I sprinted toward the street, hearing their surprised shouts. Vaguely I heard Liam yell at me to stop. If there wasn’t anything hinky going on, I’d look like a crazy woman.
But you know what?
Something wasn’t right about the situation. I knew it in my bones, and Dad had pounded it into my head—listen to your gut. He said it’d saved his life more than once. Good enough for me. I heard feet pounding behind me, but I was getting close to the end of the alleyway. I saw people up ahead, walking past. It was noisy outside, between traffic and the loud music. Would they hear me?
I’d just opened my mouth to scream when he tackled me from behind. The ground came toward me and I had a fraction of a second to wonder just how bad the hit would hurt. Then my body twisted and flew up. Somehow I was on my back, on top of Liam, his strong arms wrapping around me like shackles.
His friend caught up to us and pointed what looked like a gun.
I gasped for breath, eyes wide.
Yup.
That was definitely a gun.
At least he didn’t have a clear shot with me on top of Liam.
I tried to scream again and a big hand clamped around my mouth. Then I tried biting Liam and used every bit of leverage I could to kick down at him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much.
“Shut the f*ck up and stop fighting,” he growled in my ear. “If you do what you’re told, you won’t get hurt.”
I didn’t bother listening. I just kept kicking and biting as his arms slowly tightened around me, making it harder to breathe.
Then his fingers pinched off my nose and I froze.
“You want to stay awake, princess, you’ll stop fighting. Nod your head if you understand.”
I was so f*cking pissed off. I wanted to kill him, but I’d started seeing spots and I knew I wouldn’t hold out much longer. What the hell would they do to me if I lost consciousness? Nothing good.
I nodded.
Liam let my nose go and I sucked in air, the darkness fading away.
“Now I’m gonna get up and we’re going over to the van,” he said. “I don’t have time to argue with you, so if you want to stay awake, you do what I say.”
I nodded again.
He sat up, taking me with him.
“Get your ass moving,” his friend said, eyes dark and full of something like hate. Not good . . . “Walk over to the van and keep your f*cking mouth shut. Hunter might not want you hurt, but I could give a shit—got me?”
I could tell he meant it, so I stood slowly and walked toward the van, considering the implications of his friend calling Liam “Hunter.” None of them were good. I tried to stall as long as I could, but it was pointless. Nobody saw us. Nothing.
I stopped next to the van.
“Arms up and on the sides,” Liam said, his voice cold. Completely unlike the man I thought I’d known. Christ, I sucked at reading men. First Painter and now this bullshit? I assumed the position, choking back a little laugh. I’d seen this on TV a thousand times. What a f*cking cliche. Pathetic.
I heard the back of the van open, then hard hands ran over my body. Liam’s hands. I smelled him behind as he thrust his knee between my legs, separating them. He frisked me so thoroughly that for one horrible moment I wondered if he was an undercover cop.
Then his hand stopped on my boob and his breath caught.
Shit. If Liam was a cop, he was definitely a dirty one. That was good news—dirty cops could be bribed. He pushed into me, and I felt the length of his erect cock dig into my ass as he whispered in my ear.
“Sorry, babe. This wasn’t the plan.”
“F*ck you.”
He sighed.
Then he stepped back, taking my hands and pulling them behind my back. Cold metal clicked around my wrists. Suddenly a strip of fabric came down around my face.
“Open your mouth,” Liam told me. I shook my head. He pushed forward into me again, and his dick felt even bigger and harder now. Holy shit, this was turning him on.
Kidnapping girls turns him on.
F*ck. F*ck.
“Open. Your. Mouth,” he said again, and this time the menace in his voice was unmistakable. His prick nudged me again, and then his hips, shifting, sliding it slowly up the crack of my ass. I felt a whole new level of fear.
Who is this man?
I opened my mouth and the fabric slid inside. He tied it tight around my head, then reached a hand around to my front, pulling me back and into him. My cuffed hands bumped his stomach, my ass cradling his erection.
“What about her friends?” I heard the other guy ask. “Any value there?”
“One’s connected to the club,” Liam said, his breath warm against my ear. “Same bitch we saw in Seattle with the kid. Not sure how official it is, but Ruger’s got something goin’ on with her. The other one’s just deadweight.”
I shivered, hoping to hell Kimber and Sophie didn’t come looking for me. Oh God. I’d never forgive myself if I dragged them into this . . . whatever the f*ck “this” was.
His hand on my waist lowered, finding the sliver of bare flesh between the bottom of my corset and the top of my jeans. Then his hand dipped into my pocket, lingering with indecent hesitation before pulling out my phone. Liam stepped back. I saw the glow of the screen reflected in the van’s darkened window as he called up my message history.
“She told them to meet her out front,” he told his friend. “Go inside. Let’s give it ten minutes, see if they come looking for her. Might give us an advantage if we can grab one.”
“Got it.”
I heard the slam of the bar door closing as Liam’s accomplice went back in. Strong hands grasped my upper arms, turning me to face him. I stared up into his darkened face with wide eyes, hoping I didn’t look as scared and helpless as I felt. He lifted a hand, sliding his fingers into my hair and tightening them.
Liam’s other hand found my waist, inching up toward my breast. I thought he’d touch me there, but at the last minute he pulled away until only his fingertips grazed me. He traced upward between my breasts, then caught my chin and tilted my face toward him.
“I think you might be even prettier tied up,” he whispered. “Christ, I want to f*ck you.”
He lowered his head, running his nose along my cheek, scenting me. I shuddered, and not just from fear. Even now—after it was so clear he’d been lying to me all along, although about what I couldn’t be certain—I wanted him.
Liam made a strangled noise, then pulled back and jerked my upper arm, dragging me around to the open back of the van. He pushed me in, face forward. I fell, bracing myself to hit hard, but at the last second he caught me, lowering me to the floor on my side.
Then he grabbed my feet and pulled them together. His hands lingered on my ankles, then one slid upward along the back of my thigh. He found the curve of my ass, tracing the line where it met my upper thigh until his fingers cradled my butt cheek. His thumb dipped down between my legs ever so slightly . . . Then he squeezed my flesh hard, almost spasmodically, and I squeaked in surprised pain.
“Sorry,” he murmured, rubbing the hurt before returning to business.
I felt rope wrapping tight around my ankles, then Liam leaned forward over me. I glared at him, putting everything I had into sending him the message that I’d be killing him just as soon as I got the chance.
His face was serious and strangely blank, but he reached out and tugged my hair out of my face.
“F*ckin’ shame,” he said, his voice almost thoughtful. “I doubt you’ll believe me, but I’m really sorry about this.”
I raised my eyebrows, making it clear he was right—I didn’t believe a word he said. Liam sighed, then closed the van doors.
Huh. Shitty, shitty first date.
? ? ?
I lay in the dark for what felt like forever, waiting for something to happen. Ideally, this would include the entire Reapers nation bursting through the van doors, but I was mostly just hoping Sophie and Kimber wouldn’t get dragged into my shit.
A few minutes later I heard a scuffle and then the back opened again. Sophie flew in, hitting the floor. Liam climbed in after her, cuffing her, gagging her, and tying her up just like me. I stared at her terrified face, torn between guilt that I’d gotten her into this and determination to kill Liam myself. Preferably with my bare hands.
After castrating him.
I heard his friend climb into the front and gun the engine.
“Sorry, girls,” Liam said. “Hopefully this won’t get too ugly and you’ll get to go home soon.”
Oh, it would definitely be getting ugly. I promised him that with my eyes.
He ignored me, moving forward to join his friend as the van took off. We didn’t drive far, though. After a few minutes they pulled off the road and came to a stop. Then they stepped out and walked around to the back. Liam’s friend reached in and grabbed Sophie, sitting her up. He dug into her purse, pulling out her phone.
His sleeve rode up as he did it, and my heart stopped.
There was a f*cking Devil’s Jacks tattoo on his arm.
Shit. Shit. SHIT.
This was much worse than I ever imagined. I’d spent my whole life hating the Devil’s Jacks. They’d been fighting with the Reapers for twenty years in one way or another. I saw things in a sudden, bright, horribly clear light.
Liam, slowly becoming my friend.
Liam, asking me about my day, talking to me about anything and everything. Liam, always willing to hear me out and encouraging me to share with him.
My good “friend” Liam was a f*cking stalker.
A stalker who’d used me to learn about my club, and now he obviously planned to use me against my father. Acid filled my stomach, and for one wretched instant I thought I might vomit and choke myself, because this was the worst thing I could imagine doing.
I’d betrayed my club.
Not knowingly, but that hardly mattered. There would be fresh bodies because of this. Those deaths would be on me and my stupid, impulsive decision to let Liam into my life.
Liam tugged me down and picked me up, carrying me around to the front of the van. He leaned me up against the hood like a spare fence post. I balanced unsteadily, forcing myself to stop glaring at him long enough to look around. We were down by the river, probably near the park somewhere. Above us was one of the high bridges going over the falls, and I realized that if he decided to pitch me over the fence I’d fall a good ten stories before I either smashed on the rocks or drowned.
Would he do it?
Of course he would do it—he was a f*cking Devil’s Jack—but only if he was done using me.
Shit.
“Em, look at me,” he said. I glanced at his face to find cold, dead eyes studying me. The eyes of a sociopath.
How could I have been so f*cking stupid?
“We’re calling your dad,” he said. “I’ll let you talk to him so you can give him this message. You’ll tell him that you’re with Hunter, the Devil’s Jack he met in Portland. Let him know that we have you and your friend Sophie. Then you’ll tell him that we’ll kill you if he doesn’t do exactly what we say. Got it?”
I nodded. I felt tears start to build in my eyes, but I’d be damned if I’d show him even a hint of weakness. I refused to blink as he pulled out my phone and scrolled through the contacts.
Liam reached up and tugged out my gag, then held the phone to my head. It rang twice.
“Hey, baby, what’s up?” I heard my dad ask.
“Daddy, I’m in some trouble,” I said quietly.
“Talk to me,” he replied, immediately all business.
“I’m here in Spokane with a Devil’s Jack named Hunter,” I said, focusing all my emotions into one horrible, hate-filled glare at Liam. Too bad I didn’t have lasers in my eyes. I was pretty sure I could’ve cut him in half with that look. “He said to tell you that he has me and Sophie. He’s going to kill us if you don’t do what he says. He’s also a giant f*cking p-ssy, and I think when you catch him, you should let me cut out his balls with a dull spoon before shooting him in the head.”
Liam—Hunter? whoever the hell he was—grinned at me, then pulled away the phone as Dad started shouting. He tugged the gag back up and stuffed it into my mouth, then stepped toward the cliff’s edge, talking softly just out of earshot.
I wobbled, wondering if there was any point in trying to hop away.
Not really.
Hunter spoke for a moment longer, then turned off the phone and casually pitched it over the fence and into the falls.
He turned back and gave me an evil smile.
“Your daddy’s pretty fond of you, Em,” he said. “Things are going to work out just fine.”
Not for him, they wouldn’t.
? ? ?
The van drove forever, and I lost all sense of time as we jolted around in the back. Hunter and Skid—apparently that was the other a*shole’s name—spoke quietly, making the occasional vague phone call in what had to be some sort of unholy Devil’s Jacks kidnapping code.
I couldn’t communicate with Sophie, but I did everything in my power to send her a message with my eyes. You’re not alone, our men will rescue us. I’m so damned sorry I brought this down on you. Something along those lines.
Not sure it sank in.
She was probably thinking about her little boy, Noah, and wondering if she’d ever see him again.
It was a good question. Wish I knew the answer.
The van finally stopped and they dragged us out. We were in front of a house, an older one. Two stories, big porch, and apparently in the middle of nowhere. There were sparse trees off in the distance and gentle hills that kept me from seeing any other houses.
Great.
Hunter carried me into the living room and set me down on the couch gently. Skid dropped Sophie down next to me, and she struggled to sit up.
“Here’s the situation,” Hunter said. “You’re here as leverage. One of the Reapers down in Portland—Toke—made a real bad call tonight. He went to our house and started shooting, no warning, no provocation.”
F*ck, I thought, eyes going wide. Toke was definitely a Reaper, but he’d been in the wind for the past week. I felt a burning pain in my side, where the wound he’d given me the weekend before was still healing. He’d cut me with a f*cking knife in the middle of a party. Allegedly it was an accident, but Dad wasn’t amused. He’d taken off after him shooting.
Now Toke had found a new way to cause damage. A*shole.
“He took a hostage when he left. One of our brothers is down and a second is probably getting tortured to death right now, so you’ll have to excuse us for being a little abrupt about this whole thing. Your daddy”—he nodded at me—“is gonna do what it takes to get our guy back for us. That happens, you go home.”
I studied Liam, torn between hurt that he’d betrayed me and unspeakable rage toward Toke. I didn’t know the details of what had gone down between him and the club. Last weekend there’d been a big meeting, but I didn’t have anything to do with that. Not like I was privy to club business—that was a boys’ game. But I wasn’t stupid, either, and I’d been born a Reaper.
Something had gone very wrong in that meeting for things to get this far out of balance.
I really did want to shoot Toke, I decided. I also wanted to shoot Liam. No, his name is Hunter, I reminded myself. His name is Hunter and you don’t know him at all.
“You’re dead, Liam,” I told him, emphasizing the fake name, making it clear I was onto his shit. He didn’t respond. “My dad is going to put you in the ground. Let us go now and I’ll try to talk him out of it. Otherwise it’ll be too late. I’m serious. He. Will. Kill. You.”
This was the simple truth.
“Sorry, babe,” he said, and his voice sounded so sincere, so much like the man I’d thought I’d known . . . It cut through me in a way Toke’s knife never could. “I get that you’re scared and pissed, but I’m not going to let a brother die just because some Reaper had a tantrum.”
Don’t talk about my club that way, I wanted to growl at him. Goddamned men. Why did their bullshit always have to spill over on me? I narrowed my eyes at him, willing every bit of angry hatred I felt into my words.
“F*ck you.”
Hunter (I decided not to call him Liam anymore—Liam was a nice name for a nice guy, and it didn’t fit this bastard at all) glanced at his friend, then rubbed a hand over his face. For a minute he looked tired.
Jackass.
I was going to laugh at his funeral.
“Okay, let’s go upstairs,” Hunter announced. He glanced over at poor Sophie, who had gone pale. My anger faded a little, replaced by guilt. I needed to stop worrying about my hurt feelings and start planning our escape. If we had to wait for Dad to find Toke, we might find ourselves dead in a ditch.
Not that I really thought Hunter would kill me . . . Despite the evidence to the contrary, I just couldn’t fathom him truly hurting me. Denial? Probably. Skid was another story. There was something evil in his eyes.
Hunter pulled out a Leatherman and knelt down at my feet. I considered kicking him in the chin but decided that wouldn’t do me much good strategically. Pity. Then he cut the rope. Skid pulled out a pistol and cocked it loudly.
“You cause trouble, I’ll shoot you,” he said, and I realized I’d succeeded in conveying my homicidal intentions clearly. Yay me! “Hunter’s nice. I’m not.”
Strangely enough his words helped me focus—I’d let myself get worked up over my hurt pride, but I couldn’t let anger take over my brain. I couldn’t afford to do something stupid. Sophie might be a sweetheart, but she wasn’t a Reaper and she had no idea what we were up against. I’d have to be the one to get us out of this.
Sobering thought.
Hunter grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. Then he tugged me up a flight of stairs off to the side of the living room. Behind us I heard Skid and Sophie following. Hunter opened a door on the right and pulled me in, kicking it shut behind us. I looked around. It was a bedroom.
With a bed.
Suddenly the situation took on a new set of implications I hadn’t considered before. Liam’s whole persona might’ve been a great, big, fat fake, but he hadn’t been faking one thing. I’d definitely felt his dick poking my ass earlier. Either he wore a hell of a prosthetic at all times, or he actually wanted to f*ck me. Now he had a nice, comfy bed to do it on.
Shit.
His hands grasped mine, and I heard the click of the lock turning on the cuffs. I wasn’t free, though—he held my wrists tight as he pushed me across the room. I refused to move my feet, stalling. He leaned down, speaking softly in my ear.
“Get on the f*cking bed, Em.”
Warmth bathed my ear and I could smell him all around. Because there’s something wrong with me, that turned me on.
“That sounds like a bad idea,” I said, trying not to sound nervous. I needed to get on the offense, take some control of the situation. “Let’s talk about this.”
“Talk away,” he muttered, bringing my hands around to the front of my body. He stepped forward, taking both of them in one big hand. I felt his heat behind me, his large body dwarfing and surrounding mine.
I also felt his cock again.
No f*cking way I could miss that giant thing digging into my lower back. Double shit. I needed a diversion.
“I don’t think you realize what’s happening,” I said quickly. “I know you want to find Toke. I get that—if someone attacked one of our club brothers, I’d be after him, too. But Toke stabbed me last weekend—”
Hunter froze, then I was moving through the air, lifted straight up against his chest as he carried me. He pushed me down, rolled me to my back, and straddled me all in one smooth move, pinning my arms up and over my head.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.
“Explain how he hurt you,” he said, his voice grim and his eyes cold. “Now.”
I closed my eyes, trying to think.
Oh, I was at this party with all my friends and family, and then this guy I’m supposed to be able to trust got pissy for some reason (that I’m not allowed to know) and he cut me with a big, giant knife. Then my dad tried to shoot him, I got a few stitches, and now we’re all pretending it never happened.
Nope, nothing weird about that.
I’d planned to tell him it was an accident if we got far enough for him to find the bandage hiding under my top. Seemed believable enough to me, seeing as most people don’t go running around with random knife wounds. Not like it was particularly bad. Sure, it hurt a bit if I pulled at it, but it wasn’t exactly deep.
I took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to handle this. Toke definitely wasn’t my favorite person right now, but he was still a Reaper and this was our private business. I couldn’t give Hunter anything to use against the club. On other hand, I needed to keep him on my side, what with the not-wanting-to-end-up-dead-in-a-ditch issue.
“It was an accident,” I said slowly, which was sort of true. I was pretty sure Toke had no intention of cutting me, personally, when he’d unsheathed his knife. “We were just f*cking around at a party last weekend—”
“F*cking around?” he asked, eyes growing colder, which really shouldn’t have been possible, yet he still managed to pull it off. “What’s the story between you and Toke?”
“Nothing. Shit, nothing, okay? Although why the hell you would care I can’t imagine.”
“You have no idea what I care about.”
“And I could give a shit,” I muttered. “Do you want to hear the details or not?”
“Tell me the f*cking details.”
“We were at a party,” I started again. “It wasn’t that late or that crazy, although it was moving in that direction. I went to find my dad and say good night because Sophie and I were heading out. I was walking past a group of guys and then suddenly someone fell against me and his knife caught my rib cage. No big deal.”
Hunter dropped his hands to my sides, running his fingers lightly across the corset, searching for the wound. I gritted my teeth when he found it, refusing to acknowledge the twinge of pain. Something must’ve given it away, because he growled.
Growled.
Like a pissed-off wolf. No, like a whiny dog, I told myself firmly. One of those little yappy ones. Wolves kicked ass and Hunter didn’t. He was a giant, fake a*shole.
Then his hands went to the front of the corset and started fumbling with the hooks. This was not okay. I grabbed his wrists, trying to jerk him away, but he ignored me completely. Seriously. He was so much stronger than me that I wasn’t sure he even noticed my protests.
“What the f*ck are you doing?”
“I need to see it,” he said. “You should’ve said something earlier. I could’ve hurt you in the bar. Why the hell didn’t you tell me when it happened?”
My jaw dropped.
“It’s none of your f*cking business,” I burst out. “None of it is. And don’t try telling me you care whether or not I’m hurt.”
My breasts popped free as the corset opened. I tried to cover myself, hating the sudden, horrible feeling of vulnerability.
“You are my business,” he told me, his voice grim. He didn’t pause to perv, either. Nope, his touch was impersonal—almost clinical—as he felt around the fresh, white bandage I’d put over it earlier.
“It’s not that big,” he said, looking almost surprised.
“No shit. I told you it wasn’t a big deal. About three inches long, and not even half an inch deep.”
“They take you to the hospital?”
“They took care of me,” I snapped. “They always take care of me. That’s why—if you want to live—you need to let me go and get yourself the hell out of town.”
He laughed, sounding almost like the old Liam, and then he turned his attention toward my breasts. I slapped my hands over them, but he caught my wrists and dragged them high over my head again. I struggled but it was pointless. His strength was effortless, and while he might not be bulky with muscles, his lean body was like steel.
“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he said, the words low and rough. I couldn’t quite tell if he was talking to me or himself. It hit me right between my legs, though, and I felt like an idiot because not even learning he’d played me was enough to kill my desire. He leaned down, lowering his body over mine, one knee nudging roughly between my legs. I stiffened, refusing to give, and I think I could’ve pulled it off if he’d done something obvious like grope at my breasts.
Instead he dropped his head and ran his nose along the line of my collarbone upward, tickling my neck. It was such a light touch, so faint I’d have questioned whether I was imagining it if I couldn’t see him so clearly. He took in deep breaths, sighing against my ear.
“And I thought shit was f*cked up before,” he whispered. “Em, I know you won’t believe this, but I didn’t plan this. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Then don’t. Let me go before things get worse.”
He shook his head slowly, lips brushing my cheek as he did it.
“I can’t, sweet girl,” he replied, and if I didn’t know he was a soulless bastard, I would’ve called that regret in his voice. “My brother’s life is at stake.”
My breath caught and for a second I thought I might cry. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want anyone in my family dead.
And I didn’t want my Liam dead, either. Intellectually I knew “my Liam” had never existed, but I could feel him and smell him all around me. My body refused to believe he’d betrayed us.
F*ck.
“Toke doesn’t care about me, so it’s not like he’s going to turn himself in to save a couple of women,” I said carefully. “And the rest of the Reapers can’t make it happen. I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know this—if my dad could find Toke, he’d be dead already. Club business aside, my father would not let a man who hurt me live. Period. Kidnapping us isn’t going to get your brother back any faster.”
Hunter kissed me, catching my mouth and sliding his tongue deep inside. Need exploded through me, curling up from my pelvis through my body like fire, and the world slowed as his hips nestled between mine, spreading me open beneath him. His big, rough hand caught my breast, his callused thumb sliding back and forth across my nipple as the kiss deepened.
Oh shit . . .
I’d love to say I fought valiantly to preserve my virtue, but that just wasn’t an option. I don’t even have the words to describe how much I’d wanted him earlier that night, but that was nothing compared to this. I was pumped full of adrenaline and anger and fear and so many emotions.
In an instant they all turned to lust.
My hips cradled his as he started slowly rocking into me, our jeans a barrier I suddenly hated. His thumb and tongue played me in time as a slow burn built deep inside. This was different than it’d been at the bar, darker somehow.
Probably because back then I’d had hope.
Now every rock of my hips was a betrayal of my club, my family, the father who’d given everything to take care of me through the years. But I was empty, and the growing ridge of Hunter’s erection would fill me perfectly—I knew it as surely as I knew he wasn’t real.
He started moving faster, pulling his mouth away from mine and dropping his head down into my neck. He’d let my hands free somewhere along the way, which I discovered when I brought them around his back, tugging at his shirt. Not that I was undressing him, at least not consciously.
I just needed to feel his bare skin under my fingers.
Each movement of his hips scraped the long, strong length of his jeans-clad dick along my core, the rough fabric causing just the right amount of friction mixed with delicious pain. His shirt rubbed at my nipples and I found myself wishing he’d tug and play with them.
Then he gave a long, low groan and things changed.
Before he’d been almost tasting me, and whatever had been between us was almost painful in its restrained intensity. Now the wildness I’d felt from him at the bar, the darkness from the alley, they all came back. His muscles grew tight and his body stiffened. Then his hands came down on either side of my head as he pulled up abruptly.
Now Liam—no, Hunter—looked down at me, his eyes still full of that horrible tension I’d seen when I’d told him about Toke. His gaze burned into my face as his hips pinned me down into the mattress. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist, finding a better angle as he started pumping against my jeans-clad opening.
I think that’s when it hit me—I didn’t even need to take off my pants.
I was going to come, right here, right now, just from the feel of his cock rubbing me through the fabric, and I gave a little gasping moan of something between horror and incredible, terrible need.
“Please,” I whispered as my leg muscles quivered. “Oh, shit . . .”
Hunter bared his teeth at me in what I suppose could be called a smile. But he wasn’t smiling. He looked like he wanted to eat me and I felt fear because I knew I’d let him. I’d do anything, so long as he didn’t stop moving until it ended and I shattered apart.
“Em,” he said, and my name came ragged off his lips. “Em, baby. C’mon, Em. Now.”
His hips pressed me deep into the bed then, rotating with rough efficiency. The stimulation was so intense it hurt. But the hurt wasn’t a bad thing. Something about it, the way his eyes burned into mine, the way I couldn’t have fought him off if I tried . . . my utter helplessness.
F*ck.
I loved it.
I felt my back arch as his hips crushed mine, and then my world exploded and I screamed. It wasn’t a pretty, sexy scream, either. It was full of all the rage and anger and hurt and incredible f*cking need I felt for him as it burst out of me.
Seconds later his body shuddered and he shouted, punching the mattress right next to my head. Then he collapsed on top of me, panting.
Unreal.
That’s when it all hit me and I started laughing.
I’d just had incredible, indescribable sex with the hottest guy I’d ever met—and I was still a f*cking virgin.
Jesus. Just like high school.
I couldn’t give this shit away.