I’m not surprised he decided to join me in the shower.
He’s been insatiable lately, unable to keep his hands off me. It’s not just him either. I’m the same way, and I can feel the same desperation in Theo and Ryland too. The fact that Ryland’s and my training sessions don’t devolve into sex every time is a testament to how serious he is about teaching me self-defense.
We’re all scared of losing each other. We almost lost Marcus already, and we barely survived that.
Whenever I’m around any of these men, it’s almost impossible to restrain the urge to wrap myself around them. To crawl into their laps and hold them as close as two people can get. To lose myself in their embrace and pretend that the electric connection that surges between us might be enough to keep the rest of the world out.
It isn’t enough. I know that. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to try.
“How was your training session?”
Marcus’s deep voice cuts through my thoughts, the sound rumbling against my back.
“It was good.” I drop my head a little, letting water pour over me as the tension in my shoulders unwinds. “He said after seeing me beat the shit out of Natalie, he knows I’ve got what it takes to be a fighter. He’s just helping me shape that into better technique.”
Marcus huffs a breath that’s almost a laugh. “From what he and Theo have told me, you looked like an avenging goddess. I wish I could’ve been there to see it.”
I turn around in his arms, tilting my head back to rinse out the last of the shampoo before I blink my eyes open to look up at him. Earth and air gaze back at me, the rich brown of his left iris contrasting with the split brown and blue of his right one. His eyes are mesmerizing, and not just because of their unique color. It’s what’s behind them that pulls me in every time, drawing me the way the moon draws the tide.
I will never know enough about Marcus Constantine. Even if I spend my whole life by his side, my curiosity about him will never wane.
I want everything.
Every piece of who he is.
I won’t settle for anything less.
“If you’d been there, I probably wouldn’t have hit Natalie,” I tell him honestly, my arm wrapping around him. I can feel the scars of his bullet wounds on his back, and I trail my fingers lightly over them. “Every time my fist flew toward her face, I thought of you. I thought of where you might be, of the pain you might be in, of where your corpse might be if you were already dead. It hurt. My whole body felt filled to the brim with it, and I just couldn’t h
old it in anymore. I wanted to kill her for what she did to you.” My jaw clenches, tears burning the backs of my eyes at the memory of my pain and rage. “So I guess she’s lucky I just smashed her face in instead.”
Something glints in Marcus’s eyes, something feral and dangerous and possessive. It’s the kind of thing that used to scare me, back when he first reappeared in my life, invading my space, my thoughts, and my dreams.
Obsession.
Pure, raw obsession.
It used to overwhelm me. It used to terrify me, knowing that I was the single focus of Marcus’s attention. That even before we’d said two words to each other, he knew more about me than most of the “friends” I’ve had over the years.
Now, seeing that look in his eyes doesn’t make my stomach flip-flop with nerves. Instead, it sends a bolt of heat shooting through me, making liquid arousal pool in my belly.
“Fuck, angel.” His large hands come up to frame my face, slicking my wet hair back as he looks down at me. “When you say shit like that…”
He doesn’t bother to finish that sentence, showing me what he means by moving even closer to me. His cock presses against my stomach, fully hard now and hot against my skin. My pussy clenches in response, arousal spreading through my limbs as I wrap my arm around his neck, closing the last small fraction of space between us.
I’m not a violent person by nature, but I would kill for this man.
The truth of that realization takes me by surprise, and I blink up at him, my gaze tracking over the strong curve of his jawline and the perfect bow of his full lips. His brown hair has gotten wet, making it look shiny and darker than usual.
At the moment, he looks like the thing he always calls me—an angel.
A dark angel, beautiful and deadly.
Rising up on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his. Marcus groans into my mouth, sliding his hands down my wet, slippery body to wrap around my waist as he hauls me against him. Our kiss is deep and sloppy, hungry and desperate, fueled by everything that’s led up to this moment.
I could drown in this man, I think. I could fall into the depths of his soul and never resurface. Never want to.
As if he’s trying to drown himself in me too, Marcus’s lips move harder against mine, his tongue sliding against my own in a dance that makes my clit throb. When our kiss finally breaks, his ravenous lips move over the curve of my cheek and along my jaw, collecting the water droplets that trail down my skin.