Pushing Her Limits (Masters of Adrenaline 3)

“Put me down. I’ll walk,” she said breathlessly. Hanging upside down over his shoulder on the stairs was making her twitchy.

“No. This is what you wanted, so this is what you’re getting.”

“I didn’t think you’d really carry me! And I thought you’d let me put my clothes back on!” She hadn’t been over a man’s shoulder since . . . Was it a high school pool party? Even then, she’d decked the guy afterward.

He made a sound of dismissal. “You’re wearing more than you would be at the beach. Besides, you have a perfect ass. The people with good taste will stare, but I won’t let them touch what’s mine.”

“Yours?” She raised a brow.

“For now.”

“Unless I say no.”

“Unle

ss you say ‘chicken’,” he corrected. “Otherwise you can beg and plead and refuse, and I won’t listen.”

Fuck, why was that so hot? She started struggling in earnest, but he held her in place without much effort. Could she use her unarmed combat training and say she took karate classes if he asked? This carrying business had sounded like fun minutes ago—she’d never fooled around with a guy who could manhandle her so easily. It was completely undignified. Maybe that was the point.

She barely knew him and she sure as hell hadn’t told him what she liked. And what had she been thinking grabbing his cock and challenging him? It was as if her mouth had been possessed and said what she was thinking without her permission. Her body had spoken, and her brain was going to have to live with the consequences.

And she was really hoping he’d stuffed his crotch, because his dick had felt . . . enormous.

She sighed. A hardened criminal with a huge cock and a kinky mind? Atlas Larson was bad fucking news.

“Do you honestly want me to put you down?” he asked, stroking his hand over her ass.

She pressed her thighs together, afraid he’d find out how wet she was. Thank god she’d chosen black underwear.

She didn’t answer, but started to fight hard, using some of the tricks from training, but trying to make it seem like beginner’s luck.

He put her down and quirked a brow at her. “You okay?”

“Sucker,” she shot back. She bolted toward the next flight of stairs, but he caught her by the hair and the back of her bra and dragged her back to him as though she was a doll.

“Pardon me?” His low voice was full of menace.

She stomped on his instep, but his boots protected him. He used his grip to propel her to the wall, then pushed her against it until her face gently squashed against the gray painted cinder block. The feel of his body behind her, looming over her as he held her there made her want to touch herself.

Rather than give in to him, she kept struggling, and when he trapped her arms behind her back, she tried to kick. He snugged up close until his body covered hers, trapping her there between the wall and his bare chest.

“You’re a bad girl, Mila.”

Oh, hell yeah.

“You want me to prove how small and helpless you are with me.”

Mayyybe.

His free hand stroked her side and she gasped at the skin on skin contact, as though he’d done something far more shocking. She wished he would. Two minutes alone with her Hitachi would let her think with a clearer head, but right now she just wanted him to hold her still and shove that big cock into her.

She squirmed, trying to get away just to make sure she couldn’t, grunting with the effort, bucking against a zillion pounds of muscle in a futile attempt to get free. The hand that had touched her side dipped down to stroke over her belly, making her muscles there twitch and jump. Anticipation trembled through her body. His touches moved, disappointingly, upward rather than down, and he grabbed her throat, the grip hard enough to feel dangerous and possessive, but not cutting off her oxygen. She felt herself slipping under his influence. It was as if he’d drugged her with the menace of his body without actually threatening anything. Knowing he could easily overpower her made her head spin. She should not like this so much.

“What are you going to do now, Mila?” he asked darkly. “You’re trapped here. It’s a good thing I’m a nice guy.”

“Nice? Ha!”

“Well, ‘nice’ is a relative term.” He bent his knees to press his groin against her ass, and she could feel the bar of his hard cock through his jeans. “What is it about you? I told myself I’d stay away, and yet here we are.”