But his eyes are lost, wild, searching, and hurting. He’s heartbroken. “Let me help,” I whisper.
His eyes close for a moment. “You can’t, no one can. I hate that you saw me like that…” He trails off. With a self-disgusted snarl, he rips away from me, his hands running through his hair as he starts to pace.
That’s what he cares about? That I saw him lose control? Oh, my damaged Viper. “I enjoyed it. Watching you beat the shit out of those people? It was hot,” I admit, unashamed that I was turned on as I observed him.
He ignores me, so I carry on, trying to pull him out of his self-hatred. “Really, it was. All that power in your body, it’s sexy as hell. The way they look at you, the way they fear you…you’re untouchable.”
He stops, his back to me, chest heaving.
“I want you,” I state, taking a shot.
He shudders, so I step around him, my eyes meeting his, knowing I’ll have to take the first step with him.
“I’m wet from watching you.”
“Get out before I kill you,” he warns, but there is desperation in his voice, he doesn’t want me to leave.
He doesn’t mean it, I can see it in his face, in his eyes. He wants me to stay, he wants me to fight this for him, with him. Help me. I see it written across his features. I wonder if no one else has ever looked under all those layers of anger to the scared, damaged man crying out for help underneath.
His fights, his anger, all a way to protect himself.
He needs someone to push him, to rip him out of it, but it might just kill them to do so…then why am I willing to try?
He’s my captor. My enemy. But I can’t walk away from him.
“Nah, I don’t think I will. You want this too, want me. So why not just give in?” I grin.
“What makes you think I want you when I can’t even stand to look at you? When I hate you? Hmm? Tell me, baby, what makes you think you’re so fucking special that I would fuck you? Or let you touch me?” he grinds out.
I revel in his anger, refusing to be intimidated and back away like everyone else. He’s lashing out due to fear, due to anger. I know that, ’cause I do it myself. “Because you’re hard, because you watch me when you think I don’t notice, because you imagine fucking me, even if you hate it.” I lay the challenge down, and he doesn’t disappoint as I reach out to touch him.
With a snarl, he grabs my wandering hands before they can touch his chest and wrenches them behind my back, forcing me upright, back bowed as he leans down. Hatred and need gleams in his eyes. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me, or I will kill you. You want me? You’re so desperate for cock that Ryder and Kenzo ain’t enough? Fine.” He drags me over to the shower stall in the bathroom.
With one rough, scarred, bleeding hand, he rips off my top and shorts and tosses them away, his eyes running across my skin in disgust before he flicks on the water. He kneels down, still holding me, and grabs my boots, throwing them behind him before getting back to his feet, his hand tightening on my wrist so it hurts. Pushing me down to my knees, he ties my shirt around my hands at the base of my spine so I can’t touch him. I’m unbalanced, kneeling on my heels before him as he sheds his shorts, his hard, naked body before me. Every inch is stacked with muscle. His body is deadly, a weapon he uses every day. His chest isn’t ruined like he thinks, it’s a masterpiece of pain and suffering. The rest of him is so stunning, I can barely breathe. His cock is hard, long, and thick, and leaking and pointing right at me. Water rushes across me, plastering my hair to my head, cooling my overheated body.
I don’t care. He blocks the spray and grabs my head, forcing my mouth open before slamming his cock into it with no warning. It’s not polite, not that I would expect that from him. It’s cruel, a punishment for me and one for himself for wanting me.
I hold on as best as I can, just a puppet for him to use for his desire, like the outlet his fighting provides for his anger. He channels it all into me, his cock so hard and thick and long, he hits the back of my throat. I have no choice but to breathe through my nose as I roll my eyes up to his. He meets my gaze with a groan, his hips stuttering before he slams back into my mouth. Harder than before.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that. Like you want this,” he snaps, but I can’t help it. I do. Each hard stroke of his cock in my mouth has me wiggling on the cold tile, my pussy dripping.
He takes what he wants, it’s rough and hard. My lips bleed from it, his movements filled with hate and disgust…and lust. He pounds into my mouth, uncaring if he hurts me, and when his thighs clench, his abs rolling, he roars his release, shooting it down my throat. With a disgusted snarl he pushes me away, slipping from my mouth. Licking my damaged lips, I watch as he turns and, without a word, strides from the shower. His ass flexes as he pushes out of the room, the door almost ripping from the hinges in his rush to escape me.
He leaves me there, wet and bound, with tears tracing down my face and blood and cum spilling from my lips, my own wetness dripping between my thighs.
That’s how Diesel finds me. He takes one look and whistles. Flicking off the water, he crouches down, his thumb rubbing at my aching lips, unconcerned about the cum. “Keep pushing, Little Bird. You’re the only one who can get through to him, and if you don’t, we might lose him forever.” He undoes my bindings, gently lifts me into his arms, and cleans me off before taking me back to my room and tucking me in.
It’s soft and sweet, and brings tears to my eyes. This crazy bastard is growing on me. Who would have thought, and what did he mean about Garrett?
I know he hates women. It’s easy to see somewhere in his past, one hurt him. Badly. Did she just turn down his proposal? Is that what the ring was? No, it’s something worse, I can feel it. But I doubt he will tell me. It’s clear, though, Garrett is trying to hold himself back from me, but like two crashing cars, we’re drawn to each other.
Who will make it out alive?
Chapter Twenty-Six
KENZO
“Bollocks,” I mutter, as we pull up outside the spa. “I forgot to say goodbye to Rox.”
Ryder snorts but slips from the vehicle, and so do the guards we brought. I hop out and lean across the roof of the sports car, waiting for the SUV to arrive with the guards. “What? I heard you two last night, brother.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
His lips curl into a satisfied smirk, even as he rests his arms across the car like me. “So? Unlike you, baby brother, I can separate sex and feelings.”
“Uh-huh, so then why did you smack Garrett this morning for being too loud and almost waking her?” I taunt.
He rolls his eyes but loses the smirk. “She needed to sleep. I couldn’t be dealing with her brattiness.”
“Sure.” I grin as I round the car, and we head towards the spa. “Then why did you tuck her in and kiss her goodbye when you thought no one was watching?”
He freezes, his head swivelling to glare at me. “What have I told you about spying on me?”
Laughing, I clap him on the back. “Admit it, Ry. You like her too. It’s cool, I don’t mind sharing, but I’m not crossing swords with you.”
He sighs and puts his hand on the door. “Can we please stay focused on why we are here?”
“Right, threats, paying the enemies. I got it.” I nod, and he jerks the door open, the relaxing music of the spa drifting to us as we step inside with our guards behind us. Ryder refused to leave Tony and Sam behind, in fact, he made sure they were with us. And this idiot still thinks he doesn’t like her.
“We should get her some girlie shit from here to make her feel more at home,” I suggest as I look around. A woman in a dress sits in the waiting room, rearranging her tits to show them off, and flashes a grin at me. I wink and lean closer. “Sorry, I’m taken, and so is he.”
She slumps but grins and looks back down at her magazine. Whistling, I glance over to see Ryder glaring at me. “We’re taken?” he repeats.
“Sure are! You think Rox wouldn’t kill any poor girl you brought back to hurt her? If you haven’t noticed, Ry, she’s as nuts as we are.”
He shakes his head, muttering under his breath about idiot brothers and annoying women as he strides over to the desk and raps his knuckles on the curved wood. “I need to speak to Sandra. Now,” he demands, face closed and angry.
The woman behind the desk shrinks, her face paling. “I-I’m sorry, sir, Sandra is busy—”
“Take a break, Izzy,” Sandra calls, as she steps from the office behind the receptionist. She’s a big girl, and I mean tall. Taller than Ryder almost. Her curvy body is encased in a tight dress and heels. Her greying hair is pulled back in a taut bun, showing off her face, which is artificially lifted. Her lips are pink and way too plump to be natural. When she sees us, her eyes narrow.