Dominate (Deliver 8)

Her mouth opened on a gasp, and she gave way to his adoring licks. He suckled and worshiped, pressing in and releasing her hands to cup her head and palm her tight, round ass.

For a moment, she melted into him, welcoming his tongue moving in her mouth, against hers. She gripped his shirt and angled her head, delving deeper and whimpering. Not sounds of hunger, but distress.

Intimacy was her limit, and a tender kiss came way too close to that. So when her hands balled into fists on his shirt, he was ready for the blowback.

She punched his chest and sank her teeth into his lip. More strikes. Rabid bites. He absorbed it for a few seconds, knowing she needed an outlet for the pain inside her. He also knew she’d have him covered in blood if he didn’t defuse her soon.

“Behave.” With his hands framing her face, he slowed down the kiss and earned himself a vicious bite on the tongue.

“Fuck you.” She went at his mouth, attacking him in a firestorm of feral heat and scorn.

He nibbled when she bit, caressed when she scratched, and hummed when she growled. He dominated her mouth with devotion, overpowering her hostility with sensuality and sliding her temper into a languid embrace of exploration and affection.

Until she shoved him back against the seat. He allowed it, soaking in her fury and grief, her fists pounding upon his chest, her fingernails scoring his flesh. He caressed her everywhere, softly, compassionately, his touch in extreme opposition of hers.

She tore her mouth away, panting. Angry and confused. Then she fused their lips again.

Her kiss was war and retribution. Punishment for everything he’d done to her. But it was also redemption, heaven, and desire. He loved the fiery taste of her, the all-consuming fervor in her breaths, and the curling of her claws in his hair, ripping, pulling, and holding him close.

He loved that she didn’t do anything half-ass, especially when it came to him.

“If you put this much energy into hating me,” he breathed against her mouth, “I can only imagine the amount of intensity and passion you’ll put into loving me.”

“Never.” Her eyes glinted like steel blades. “I’ll never love you.”

“Oh, boy,” Liv said from the front seat. “I’ve heard those words before.”

“Me, too.” Luke sighed and shifted to glance at them over his shoulder. “Rylee Sutton, you just sealed your fate.”

CHAPTER 20

An indignant cloud darkened Rylee’s expression, and Tomas wanted to kiss it right off her face. She didn’t like hearing that her fate was sealed. She’d fought too hard for her independence and was too protective of her heart to believe her efforts had been for naught.

Tomas, on the other hand, held tight to his newfound hope.

She was stuck with the Freedom Fighters, whether she forgave him or not. She knew their identities, their secrets, and once they arrived in Missouri, she would know the location of Cole’s safe house.

Even if Tomas let her go, his friends would not.

Loose ends.

None of that mattered. She was his now. If she tried to leave, he would go with her. She just didn’t know it yet.

Cole led the caravan on his motorcycle, shooting down the dark highway in the dead of night. Around one in the morning, four hours into the thirteen-hour drive, he pulled off at a vacant rest stop.

“Bathroom break.” Tomas nudged Rylee beside him, reluctant to wake her after it had taken her so long to fall asleep.

She rubbed her eyes and followed him out of the car.

Parked behind them, the second SUV rocked wildly on its frame.

What the hell?

The doors flew open, exploding in a whirlwind of swinging arms and heated voices. Lucia’s roar was the loudest, her rapid-fire Spanish shuddering the air.

With a snarl, she raced around the vehicle and attacked the smirking driver.

Tiago.

“Oh, shit.” Tomas gripped Rylee’s hand, prepared to toss her into the SUV if guns were drawn.

Tiago stood like an impenetrable mountain, chin up, feet braced apart, as he absorbed the force of Lucia’s punches.

“They need to knock that shit off.” Cole charged toward the commotion.

Liv’s hand shot out, stopping him. “There’s no one around for miles. Let it play out.”

Tate and Van yelled, too, quieter, calmer than the woman who unleashed unholy hell on her nemesis.

“Deep down,” Luke said to no one in particular, “Tiago feels regret for what he did to them.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Cole scoffed and walked off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Luke started toward the small building of restrooms. “Satan has no feelings.”

Rylee tilted her head, eyes locked on the fight. “If everyone hates Tiago, why is he here?”

“He’s here for Kate.” Liv lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. “The longer he avoids us, the more he isolates her from her family. Isolation breeds resentment. He might be the devil, but the devil is intelligent.”

“Happy wife, happy life,” Tomas said.