Chased (Savage Men 3)

He doesn’t reply.

And the longer this silence hangs between us, the more the hatred flows out of me … and the more it leaves sadness behind.

The letter opener drops from my hand.

“How could you do this?” I mutter.

“I just want what’s best for you.”

“But you used me. Used me like some kind of experiment, and when you didn’t get the outcome you thought you would, you just kept it going.”

“And I’ll accept all responsibility for that.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You can’t take the easy way out.” I mull over these last few words because they’re so damn hard to say. But I want them out there. I want them to be real. So I force myself to say it.

“You’ll have the rest of your life to make it up.”

I can hear him move from the floor. “What?”

“You want to stop being evil? Then do the right thing. For once.”

I can hear him shuffle closer, and I don’t stop him. Not even when he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his embrace.

And I cry. I cry harder than I ever have before.

Because this man … this murderer … this monster …

Is the only man I couldn’t ever kill.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Accompanying Song: “Huggin & Kissin” by Big Black Delta

Chase

I can’t stop myself from holding her close. Don’t want to let go. Don’t want to stop smelling her delicious scents as I bury my nose in her hair.

This one girl has become my undoing … and I regret nothing.

My secrets are finally out in the open, and it feels freeing.

Empowering.

Because the worst has happened … and we’re both still here.

Even though she tried to hurt me, she couldn’t.

Her dropping that letter opener was all the proof I needed. She needs me just as much as I need her. Even though she probably hates herself for it, despises me for it, she can’t deny the power that I hold over her heart.

“I’ll take care of you,” I whisper. “I promise.”

“But you’re … a killer,” she replies.

I grab her chin and lift her head up. “But I’ll never, ever hurt you again. Do you believe me?”

She nods softly, but her pristine eyes are still filled with tears. She’s so pretty even when she cries. And I’m just … me, a vicious brute who revels in other people’s suffering.

But not hers.

Her pain ruins me. Makes me want to lash out. Makes me want to protect her, love her, kiss her.

So I do. I press my lips to hers, claiming her mouth, despite knowing full well that she hates me right now. I don’t care what the consequences are. I just want to give myself to her fully—without all the lies, without all the betrayal.

With her still in my arms, I back away into the bathroom, never taking my lips off her. She tastes too good, too sinful to stop. Even though we’re covered in blood and sweat, and our bodies are shaking from all the adrenaline pumping through our veins, I still can’t stop myself from wanting every single inch of her body.

Her mouth consumes me.

Twists my heart into a contorted mess until it contains nothing but love and devotion.

My kisses are frantic, hyper sexual, driven by the need to drown out the pain inside her mind.

And after a while, she even starts to kiss me back.

My fingers undo the zipper on her dress and pull it down, ripping it off her shoulders until it drops to the floor. I tear away her panties and lift her up, smacking us both against the wall as I kiss her senseless. Her naked body quivers against mine, goose bumps scattering as my mouth locks with hers.

Her legs wrap around my waist as I squeeze her ass and groan into her mouth. My tongue circles around hers, and I lick the roof of her mouth. But no matter how many times I kiss her, it’s never enough. I always want more of this beautiful creature I call mine.

When our lips momentarily unlatch to take a breath, I whisper, “Still afraid of me?”

Her swollen pink lips show a hint of a smile as she bites her bottom lip. “I …”

“You don’t have to answer,” I murmur, pressing sweet kisses onto her neck. “I already know the truth.”

She wants to fear me. Needs to hate me. But neither of those things are truly possible if you’re in love with someone. Even if she despises her own heart for falling so easily, it was inevitable.

My tongue leaves lavish licks on her neck and tits, and I take her nipple into my mouth and suck until it’s hard, then do the same to the other one, twisting them around my tongue until she moans.

“Tell me to stop,” I whisper, pressing my hard-on against her. “Tell me that I’m a monster and that you hate me.”