“Don’t unlock your fingers.” His voice acted like fuel to the fire already licking my core. I shivered as his fingers trailed from my hips up to my waist. The pads of his thumbs tickled the sides of my breasts as he worked his way upward.
Slowly. So, slowly. Softly. So, softly.
My vision darkened; I went lightheaded all thanks to the heat he invoked inside me—turning my craving into a lunatic obsession.
I needed his touch. I needed to be petted and pampered and adored. I’d never been a sexual creature, but now I understood why people hungered for it. Why the thought of being taken and worshiped had such maddening appeal.
Shamelessly, I felt wetness building between my legs.
Fox bowed his head, his eyes never leaving mine. Green to grey, vivid to colourless. My lips parted on their own accord; my breath grew shallow as my legs shook.
Inch by inch he came closer, bringing with him the scent of smoke and metal.
I tensed for a fast kiss. A hard kiss. But Fox held himself still, hovering over my mouth only a fraction away from touching. My lips tingled and ached; my tongue wanted to dart out and lick him.
If he was using my body against me, it was working.
A small noise sounded in his chest, and I looked harder into his eyes. Instead of raw passion there, I saw utter confusion. My heart stuttered and once again my protective instincts rose. He shouldn’t be confused. I would kiss him in that moment even if I had to do it for free.
I’d never know who crossed the last millimetre of distance, but I moaned the instant his lips touched mine. Our eyes snapped shut, and nothing else existed but taste.
I kept expecting him to break. To drag me closer and plunge his tongue into my mouth, but he did the opposite. With perfect pressure, he coaxed my lips apart and the very tip of his tongue entered my mouth. His taste intoxicated me, and I strained forward, rubbing my breasts against him.
He stiffened, but didn’t stop kissing me, keeping up the maddening softness, exploring deeper with a gentle tongue. My head swam as I forgot to breathe; my fingers loosened until my hands fell to my sides. All I could think about was touching him, dragging him closer, forcing him to be rough, to end his infuriatingly slow assault.
Something switched in him and his lips pressed harder. Confidence filled his touch and he dragged me closer, hips thrusting just enough for me to feel the hard heat in his slacks. I tipped my head, allowing him better access, wanting him to kiss me deeper.
But he didn’t take advantage.
Slow and soft and coaxing.
It was the best kiss I’d ever received, but also the worst. It sparked lust and need in every inch of me. My lips wanted more, my tongue wanted savagery. My skin wanted to bruise because he needed to touch me so badly.
All my thoughts disappeared as I nipped at his bottom lip. He flinched, but a second later he copied, his sharp canines piercing my oversensitive flesh.
I moaned.
I couldn’t take it.
My hands flew up and gripped his shirt. Yanking him toward me, fireworks whizzed in my fingertips; my heart galloped toward exploding with lust. I’d never been so drunk on someone before.
Then I landed flat on my back.
The crack of my skull jangled my teeth. The thick carpet did little to cushion me. My eyes flared wide and I grunted in pain. Fear, hot and terrible, swamped my lust in a dampening wave.
“Top rule. Unbreakable rule. Don’t. Ever. Touch. Me.” Fox kneeled on one knee beside my head, breathing hard. His hand noosed my throat, pressing my spine into the carpet. His eyes were cold and lifeless, looking like a hunter intent on blood.
I gasped, struggling to breathe. I couldn’t unfog my brain.
“Never touch me.” His hands tightened, crushing my windpipe.
He’s going to kill me.
Hot terror erupted and I scratched at his grip. Scratching, prying, trying to unlock his incredibly strong fingers. Clara flashed in my mind, bringing hot tears to my eyes.
He bent further, squeezing harder. “What did I just say?”
I thrashed, needing air. My eyes felt too big for my sockets; my ears roared with blood. I need to breathe!
My thoughts were scrambled, but one thought trumpeted: Don’t touch him.
Stop touching him!
It took all my strength to obey. Every instinct boycotted when I forced myself to let go—to allow him to willingly strangle me.
Dropping my hands to my sides, I locked my elbows, keeping them dead straight. I shuddered uncontrollably, battling the instinct to fight back.
Only once I’d gone completely still, with no threat of touching him, did he unlock his fingers and stand. The instant he let me go, I rolled onto my side and hacked and choked, dragging oxygen into greedy lungs.
He stood staring, his face black and terrifying.
I thought I knew what I agreed to, but I hadn’t. I hadn’t factored in his volatile mental state. He was more than just an asshole. He was unhinged—deranged—and every agreement we’d made seemed incredibly idiotic.
He groaned under his breath, sounding like a wounded animal before dragging hands over his face. He paced away, stalking from one end of the room to the other.
By the fifth or six lungful of air, I sat up. But I was too afraid to stand. I liked being down here, away from his murdering fingers.
Fox prowled, muttering under his breath. His eyes flashed from deadly to contrite to weary. Stopping behind his desk, he snarled, “I didn’t mean to do that.” His fists opened and closed with unspent energy. “You provoked me. At least now you know what happens. Don’t disobey me. Next time, I might not have the strength to stop.”
His mouth tightened into a grimace. Anger rolled off him, buffeting me across the small distance between us. My heart raced, and I couldn’t look away. He entrapped me with his stare, wreaking havoc on my emotions.
I flushed, dropping my gaze. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Nervously I climbed to my feet, kicking off the stupid heels to stand barefoot on the silky strands of the carpet. Better to run. Better to flee. “I didn’t mean to disobey.”
I wanted to curse him for hurting me rather than apologise, but his remorse was real. It echoed in the room, vibrating in his muscles. He watched me warily as if I’d run at any moment. It was his fault for kissing me so sweetly, so gently. For a man who wore violence as his true identity, my mind couldn’t come to terms with how softly he’d kissed me.
Running a shaky finger over my bottom lip, I tried to forget. Tried to ignore the awkwardness, the strange determination, and sweet eagerness that’d been on his tongue. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that it’d been his first kiss.
Testing, learning, figuring out how to do it.
My eyes widened, staring at Fox. The concept of him never kissing anyone seemed completely absurd. This male didn’t kiss. He plundered and took.
So why did I kiss a completely different man than the one standing in front of me?
Once again my heart popped with little bubbles of despair. The tenderness of a motherly instinct rose quickly. I wanted to tear through his inner turmoil and give him a person to confess to, lend an ear and nod in concern—to share his burden.
Because he was burdened. Heavily.
His gruffness and scar didn’t scare me. He spun a lie and the stench of untruths never worked on me.
Flashes of emotion appeared in his eyes.
My heart raced, bashing against my ribs. Taking a careful step forward, ignoring the bruising around my neck, I asked, “Are you alright?”
His eyes popped wide and he laughed. “You’re asking if I’m alright? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
I shrugged. “We all have triggers. I believe you when you said you didn’t mean to hurt me.”
He froze, staring as if I confused the hell out of him. “If we all have triggers, you must have one. What’s yours?” His voice stayed deceptively quiet.
I wasn’t being baited into revealing more of my secrets before I was ready. Shaking my head, I said, “That doesn’t matter. What matters is I promise I won’t touch you again. I can see it’s an issue for you. I’ve learned my lesson.”
And I’ll figure out the reason behind it.
Fox gritted his teeth. For a second, I wondered if he’d order me to leave—that he no longer wanted to buy me.
Finally, he nodded. “In that case, let’s proceed.”
Chapter 6
There were certain things in life that made sense and others that made no sense at all. Most of my life didn’t make sense—I had no freedom, no right to my future. I obeyed orders: slept when I was told to sleep, ate when I was told to eat, and killed when I was told to kill.
But my ruthless conditioning, the coldness that imprisoned my life, had cracked and splinted and begun to thaw.
And it was all because of one person.
One person who didn’t fear me. One person who pushed me beyond my boundaries and helped me find a way to wellness.
One person who could make it better.
I knew it was only a matter of time before I ruined it. But I wasn’t strong enough to stop it.
Tonight, I did the one thing that made the least sense of all.
I bought a girl.
And I would never let her go.
I couldn’t meet her eyes.
I couldn’t look at the red marks on her neck without being crippled by guilt. There was no correct etiquette of what to do after throwing someone to the ground and strangling them mid-kiss.
My first fucking kiss and I fucked it up.
You should’ve done what you were ordered. I should’ve believed them when they said there would be no going back.
There were no guidelines, or manuals on how to break what had been drilled into me for twenty-two years. They created a machine and everything of who I’d been had ceased to exist. That kiss just proved it.
I’ve bought a woman, and I’ll probably kill her before I’ve even noticed.
My heart squeezed at the thought. I didn’t know her, but already she’d given me something incredible. She’d kissed me with nothing barred; she’d poured every need and dream into her tongue and licked me with passion. Her body pressed against mine, her heat sent my cock rippling with the first pre-cum I’d enjoyed in my life. Everything overwhelmed me and I over thought the kiss, trying to understand how to tilt my head, how hard I could go without clashing teeth. It’d been consuming, amazing.
My hands curled with hatred for myself. I’d expected too much—I thought she’d offered me a miracle.
I let my guard down and broke my feeble control. One touch. One simple touch to send me hurtling back to who I’d been and using second nature against me.
Zel rubbed her neck, nonchalantly bringing her thick hair to cover her shoulders, hiding the majority of the bruising. “It’s okay, you know. I accept your apology. You don’t have to look as if someone will come and beat you.”
How did she guess?
I snarled, pacing away. “You don’t know anything. Stop trying to figure me out.”
I hated that I was supposed to be in control but every time Zel stole it off me. Either with her temper, her understanding, or her strength. I was one step behind and fumbling like a fucking buffoon.
I wanted to scream at her to let me inside—to give me power over her, but at the same time I needed her to remain strong. I needed her courage if she had any chance of surviving me.
Deciding to focus on the kiss rather than the aftermath, I stopped pacing and faced her. “What did you feel kissing me? I want to know.”
Her cheeks flared. “I don’t need to tell you. You know.”
“What do I know?” I knew her taste still lived in my mouth. I knew my cock hurt with how much I wanted to plunge inside her, but I had no fucking clue what she thought. I wanted to know she was as affected by whatever existed between us as me.
Because if she doesn’t it’ll prove that you’re fucking unlovable.
The thought came from nowhere, and I sucked in a gasp. Fuck me, was this what rehabilitation felt like? Ripping myself apart, tearing away the pieces I wanted to be free from, flushing remnants of addiction from my veins. There was no doubt I was in withdrawal—not from substances, but from a conditioning that owned me body and mind.