by Kay Maree
“Just another day at the office,” I whisper and brush my fingers across his cheekbone.
Slade snags my wrist, bringing it to his lips and sucking where my elevated pulse is closest to the surface. His eyes never leave mine while he works his way up my arm, each bite following the trail of the permanent art Henley so painstakingly created. Slade doesn’t even reach my inner elbow when a growl rumbles in his chest and his mouth is claiming mine. My fingers entwine in his hair, weaving through the top strands in desperation to feel his body as close to mine as possible.
Lust roars through me the moment Slade grips the backs of my legs and sets me on the counter, pressing his palms onto the top of my thighs to pin me in place. His mouth and tongue are commanding as he alternates between kissing me roughly and slowing the pace as if he’s savouring me like expensive whisky. He’s first to pull away, right at the moment I lose my inhibitions.
Slade smirks. “Now that’s more like it. Grab your shit.”
Despite his demand, his hands remain pressed against my thighs. I hold his eye contact as I reach beside me and blindly find my bag, bringing it between us with an accompanying shove to his chest. “Back the fuck up then.”
He grunts and steps from my space, allowing me room to slide off the counter and turn to pack away my gear.
The distance between us is short lived when Slade’s body presses against my back and his hand slips down the front of my jeans. I gasp at the intrusion, yet my legs automatically widen half a pace. His chuckle against my neck has me squeezing my thighs together, trapping his hand between them.
“It’ll keep. I’ll be a happy man riding with you behind me knowing you’re wet and ready.”
I scoff. “Doesn’t mean you’re getting any.”
“We’ll see.”
Slade’s finger slips through the wetness I know is there—there’s no denying I’m aroused—and enters my body. I mash my lips together as my head falls back against his shoulder and it’s all I can do to stop the hum escaping my lips. He owns me, and he fucking knows it.
“Fuck, I regret touching you now,” he growls and presses into me further, teasing the moan from my lips when I fail to keep it restrained.
The feel of his erection digging into my arse makes me hotter, and I can’t help but rock back knowing it will drive him just as crazy.
“I don’t,” I breathe and begin to move against his hand. “Fuck that feels good.”
At my admission, Slade’s touch is gone, leaving me stunned with the sudden loss of sensation. I whip my head around to see him standing a pace away, hands clenched at his sides and his eyes dark with the storm whirling within them. His chest heaves and nostrils flare with each inhale. He’s a man on the edge, and seeing him like this, so close to coming unhinged, fills me with power.
“We need to go. Now!” he snaps, voice dangerously low with no room for questioning.
I pick up my helmet and stride towards the door with Slade hot on my heels and breathing fire down my neck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Slade
I barely make it to Tova's apartment door before my dick is filing my jeans again. Her sense of urgency is heightened by me propelling her along the hallway at almost jogging pace. The slimy Vincent must have been listening for her heels on the stairs and as soon as his head appears around his doorframe, I tell him to piss off. When would the twat learn not to mess with another man’s missus! Especially my missus!
“Hurry the hell up, woman!”
She fumbles with the key. Sure, me snarling behind her isn’t helping, but bloody hell she’s taking her sweet time. Her apartment door pushes inwards and before she can take a second step, I halt her to the spot.
“Wait here while I do a sweep. I don’t need to tell you to leave if I find anyone in here, do I?”
Her brows rise to accompany the patronising look she pegs me with. I pull my pistol with a flourish, earning a scoff from Tove, then stalk throughout the apartment. This is one time I won’t let my dick override basic safety instincts.
Tova looks up from her phone with a furrow creasing her forehead when I return. She shuts and locks the door while tucking her phone back into her bag.
“What’s that look for?”
The smile she forces is as fake as they come, and right away I know she’s lying.
“Nothing. Just some design tweaks for a client after I’ve already tweaked multiple times.”
“You’re an open book, Tova. Don’t bullshit me. You’ll regret it.”
She looks me square in the eye and juts out her jaw. “I’m not.”
After a brief pause, her coy smirk reminds me that we have unfinished business to take care of. I snatch her bag from her hand and send it across the room. There’s no resistance when I reach for her; in fact, she steps towards me and immediately fists my hair. I grunt with surprise and respond immediately, picking her up and carrying her towards the couch. Tova laughs loud in my ear when I trip on her fucking bag I just carelessly discarded, and I’m still cursing and swearing when I set her on her feet then sit on the couch in front of her.
“Take your clothes off,” I demand, palming my dick where it aches within my jeans.
Tova folds her arms across her chest and pops a hip.
“You’re not turning this into a battle, little bird. We both know you’re gonna do it, so take your damn clothes off for me so I can see what I’m about to fucking worship.”
Her eyes flare before she turns her back. I’m reaching for the back pocket of her jeans when I hear her zipper, and I’m still sitting forward on the edge of the couch when she drops her jeans and thong, bending to touch her toes before I can demand it.
“Christ!” I fall to my knees behind her. “Half-dressed is gonna have to do because there’s no way I’m not tasting that.”
Once my tongue connects with her centre and her gasp hits my ears, all bets are off. I can’t get enough of her taste as she starts the ascent to climax. She’s giving it all to me, and still, it’s not enough. Not by a long shot.
Slayed. I’m motherfucking slayed.
~*~
I’m dozing in Tove’s bed when I hear her come out of the bathroom and pause at her doorway. The flick of the light switch sends the room into blinding brightness and I slam a hand over my eyes.
“Fuck, a bit of warning would be nice!”
“Since when are you invited into my bed?”
I throw my arms wide where I’m lying. “Since we fucking boned, that’s when.”
Tova scoffs to hide the obvious giggle and combs out her hair. I lazily run my gaze along the ink on the underside of her arm then to her nipples hardening against the brush of her thin sleep singlet. Just as I’m licking my lips and about to call her over, she’s gone from the room again. The intel room opens and closes without a word of explanation.
Tove doesn’t so much as flinch when I push the door open and lean against it. She simply continues to tap on the laptop.
“Is there something going on I should know about? I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
She stays bent but looks across to where I stand. “Some more intelligence came in today that I need to record before I go to bed. I can’t sleep otherwise.”
I step closer. “Anything I can help with?”
“No. Go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute. Unless you’d prefer to sleep in here tonight…” she trails off and there’s nothing but challenge in her tone.
“Fuck that. You’ve got five, then I’m coming for your arse whether you’re ready or not.”
“I’ll only need four,” she murmurs without looking up, her fingers already tapping again.
She’s hiding something, I’m sure of it. Instincts die hard, and mine are telling me that she’s not as forthcoming with information as she should be. I decide to let it slide for the moment, knowing that when pushed, Tova shoves back twice as hard. That doesn’t mean I’m not studying her every
move when she pads into her bedroom four minutes and forty-seven seconds later. She holds my eye contact then smiles coyly as she slips beneath the sheets and wraps herself around my body.
“Tova?”
Her head lifts from my chest as I ask one, just one, question. “What are you keeping from me?”
She straight up lies to my face. “Nothing. Now, stop asking goddamn questions. Who’s coming with me to work tomorrow morning?”
I scoff. “Now who’s asking fucking questions! And that would be me.”
“Good. Let’s get some sleep; we’ve got an early start.”
I don’t answer as she rolls from my arms and clicks off the bedside lamp before resuming her position against my side.
It’s quiet but I can hear her mind ticking over. I stay awake for as long as she does, and I know for a fact that it’s almost one in the morning before she finally falls into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Tova
The bed is empty when I crack an eyelid and look at my bedside clock. Six twenty-four is a buzzkill time to wake on a Saturday morning, yet I roll from bed knowing I need to get my arse up and ready to open the shop by eight.
“Slade?”
My voice is met with silence as I pad into the bathroom. I’m still blinking focus into my eyes a few minutes later when I shuffle into the kitchen. A light clicks on from my left and I slap a hand over my eyes.
“No fucking lights first thing!” I bite out, flicking my middle finger in the direction I think Slade is.
His silence fuels my irritation. Uncovering my eyes and squinting against the brightness, as soon as I find Slade my heart lurches into my throat purely from the look on his face. I can feel my stomach knotting and squeezing hard as I suspect he’s gone digging for the information I tried to keep from him. And I know it’s bad when I see a smoke already dangling from his lips.
“Tell me this is not what I think it is!” he yells. The anger lacing his tone is different to anything I’ve heard from him before. “Tell me, Tova, that this isn’t what I fucking think it is!”
He waves a wad of paper as he stands and crosses the room before I’ve registered he’s on the move. The guys are lethal like that; always primed and ready to move like a fucking puma when they need to.
“Slade, I…”
For once I’m lost for words, and those that do form are strangled by Slade’s fingers wrapping around my throat.
“You what? Sorry that you did exactly what I warned you not to? Is that what you were about to say? Or that you didn’t fucking give a shit about me while satisfying your own curiosity?”
His hand is trembling with the bridled rage I see burning in his eyes. He’s purposely keeping me captive but allowing me to breathe freely.
“Slade, let me explain-”
“No! I fucking gave you a chance last night, multiple chances, and you looked me square in the eye and said it was nothing. This,” he shoves the paper in my face, “is not fucking nothing! This is everything in my life I want to forget, not be reminded of by my fucking girlfriend.”
Tears sting the back of my nose and I sniff them away, determined not to show weakness in front of him.
“I thought it might help give you peace with your past.”
“Bull-fucking-shit!” he spits and releases my neck to start pacing the room.
I’m grounded to the spot, unable to decide whether to spill my secrets now while he’s already enraged, or wait until he’s calmed down. Slade answers my problem without him knowing it when he swings to me and jabs a finger in the space between us.
“I’m showering, then you explain this.” The papers scatter on the floor with one flick of his wrist. “And I swear to God, I will beat your arse blue if you so much as think about leaving. Are we clear?”
I meet his glare and lift my chin. “Crystal.”
Slade clenches his jaw in one last glower then strides from view, leaving me breathless and filled with dread over what was to come. I knew why too; I had looked into the whereabouts of his parents when he specifically told me not to. Something told me I needed to.
What I’d found so far was that his dad was still a drunk and lived in the same town Slade grew up in, and his mum had a few different partners throughout the years before finding the guy she was in a steady, long-term relationship with now. I hadn’t finished my investigations and I was so damn gutted that Slade found out the way he did. That was never my intention. This needed to be handled gently, and at the right time.
I’m making coffee when he comes back and slides onto a barstool without saying a word. I turn and instantly know he’s still fucking livid; his entire demeanour is dark and closed off, filled with resentment and frustration.
“Coffee?”
Slade remains mute as I slide one across the stone benchtop, pursing my lips when he pushes it to the side and ignores it.
“Speak,” he demands.
“Where do you want me to start?”
His jaw ticks. “How about why in the ever-loving fuck you would find my birth parents when I specifically told you that I didn’t want to know anything about them!”
I swallow, knowing that this is one of the very few times I’ve been completely intimidated and, to be honest, a little scared of Slade.
“I thought it might give you clo-”
“Tova,” he cuts me off. “I’m the fucking VP of Hades Horsemen and my parents were shitheads. What part of me do you think needs closure, of all fucking things?”
I go to reply but grind my teeth when he cuts me off again.
“You know what I need? I need a fucking woman who won’t stab me in the goddamn back the first chance she gets.”
Now that pisses me off and the crack of my mug hitting the benchtop slices through the tension.
“Fuck you. I wasn’t stabbing you in the back, I fucking have your back. You just don’t see it. I’m on to something-”
“On to what?” he roars.
“I don’t know yet!” I scream back at the top of my lungs.
Slade’s hiss is smothered when he shoves another fag between his lips. “Bishop will be here any minute to babysit your arse at work today. Don’t fucking open this door until you’re sure Bish is outside. Do you understand?”
I move into Slade’s path when he stands. “And where the fuck are you going?”
He fends me to the side and heads for the door. “Clubhouse. I can’t fucking stand the sight of you right now.”
“You’re such a fucking arsehole, Kalem!”
He halts and a beat passes before he tilts his head to glare over his shoulder. “To you, right now, it’s Slade.”
Fuck. He may as well have slapped me senseless; it sure felt like he had. His sharp words ricochet over every nerve throughout my body, leaving me heaving for breath and smarting. The door slams and his heavy footsteps track down the hall until I can’t hear them. Noticing he’s left his cut behind, I snatch it from the back of the couch, march to the door and wrench it open. Slade has almost hit the stairs and doesn’t pause or acknowledge my angry voice chasing him down.
“Here’s your cut. I hope it fucking smothers you.”
I toss it in his general direction then slam the door closed and engage the deadbolt. Slade could eat a bag of dicks for all I cared. Correction; he could get arse fucked first, then eat a bag of dirty dicks.
I thunder into my room and pull on clothes with snappy, savage movements. As I’m working tight jeans over my hips, a heavy fist starts pounding on my apartment door. Taking my time to zip up and shove my pistol against the small of my back, I storm to the door. My fingers reach for the lock as I squint through the peep-hole. Slade stands with his head bowed, now wearing the cut I just tossed out.
The lock pauses then clicks under my fingers before I swing the door wide. “What the fuck are you doing ba-?”
His hand slams over my mouth as the other fists my hair, forcing me int
o the apartment with aggression that takes me off guard. The door is kicked shut then he smashes me into the wall behind it. The cologne I normally find delicious has a sharp tang to it as he leers closer and forces my head to the side.
“You know why I’m here?” he asks, voice low with an edge I don’t recognise.
I stay silent instead of wasting my breath trying to speak into his palm.
“It’s time to cash in your little calling card… Tova.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Tova
The blood chills in my veins at his words. The way he said my name held absolutely no attachment or warmth; it’s removed and heartless. I shiver as he runs his nose up my neck and inhales deeply, pressing into me harder and tightening his grip in my hair. Slade’s a big guy, but right now he seems larger and more intimidating, and so much more unhinged than he’s known for. Never in a thousand years did I think he would turn on me; the one he was insistent on claiming.
A groan escapes my nose when he releases my hair only to press on my throat. My hands and fingers scramble for anything to claw at as my body begins to be starved of oxygen. My eyes lock with his, and for the first time since I’ve known Slade, there’s a real disconnect that tints his irises glacial blue. That kind of hatred can’t be faked. What I see reflected back at me is pure hostility and loathing, and nothing that reminds me of the man who shared my bed last night.
My throat and lungs burn with increasing desperation for air, but there’s not an ounce I can find through the large hand pressing across my mouth and nose. I struggle hard despite my efforts being futile and weak against Slade’s powerful mass. The world begins to swim with stars, closing in and growing greyer by the second. In a last-ditch, frantic attempt to free myself, I try to shove off the wall. My hands brush the small of my back, reminding my oxygen-starved brain that my pistol still remains unhidden.
Blackness consumes me as I numbly thumb the safely switch. I know I’m seconds away from passing out as I brandish the pistol and squeeze the trigger. Slade jolts and his weight is gone from my body in an instant. My throat is raw as I cough hard, gagging while sucking in as much air as I can. I squeeze off another round that’s aimed at the floor somewhere between us. He curses and I hear another hasty move to the side. Now that I’m managing to blink back some vision, I see he’s standing a couple of metres away and watching my movements closely, looking as if he’s about to make a grab for the gun.
