by Alana Hart
Casey needed shoes, and new clothes. Her dress was shredded and her feet scraped and dirty.
She ran along several streets, looking for one that appeared empty. She found it, no car in the driveway, no lights, mail stuffed inside the mailbox. The house was older, the pool in the backyard half empty, the water green. She found a basement door, jimmied the lock, and snuck inside. No one was outside on this hot day to see her breaking in.
The place was stale. Whoever lived here hadn’t been around for a while. There was no telling how long it would take Connor to find her, so she searched for a bedroom, rifled through the dresser until she found a pair of men’s jeans and an old flannel shirt. She took a pair of scissors to the pants, making them shorts, cinched a belt around her hips, and pulled the flannel on over her bare chest, tying it at her waist. It was too hot to wear more than that.
There was a pile of old shoes and boots by the front door. She found a smaller pair of hiking boots, and pulled them on over some socks she’d found.
She took a moment to braid her long, dark hair. She was regretting leaving her stuff with Connor. He had her handheld, and she felt vulnerable without it. She needed to call Mariam. Ready as she could be, Casey opened the back door.
And walked right into Connor’s hard chest.
Chapter Thirteen
Casey turned and tried to run. Connor wrapped an arm around her, pressing her tight against him, and slapped a hand over her mouth. She kicked and fought to break free. But he was bigger and much stronger. Before anyone got suspicious, he dragged her inside and kicked the door shut.
She drove the heel of her foot into his knee.
Connor growled into her ear. “Knock it off, woman, or I’ll knock you out.”
She relaxed for a moment, but Casey Keene wasn’t going to give in easily. As he started to loosen his grip, she bit down hard on his hand, expecting him to drop her in pain. But his reaction was not what she expected.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said.
He knew she felt his erection pressing against her ass because she froze. And then she thrashed harder. He laughed, walking her across the room.
Connor dropped her on the couch. She spun onto her back, ready to fight him. She kicked at him, swung her fists, bucked. He had a hard time getting his hands around her wrists, pinning them to her chest, and then wedging himself between her legs to keep his groin safe from her flying feet.
No one should be this much God damned trouble, he thought as she turned into a bucking bronco in her attempt to get away from him.
“Enough!” he growled, letting the part of him that he kept hidden from her frighten her into submission. Finally. He knew how he sounded. The growl was deep and guttural, inhuman.
She stared up at him; eyes wide, confused and just scared enough. But thankfully, she was fucking still.
He’d dealt with men twice her size and strength, and yet he had to take a second to catch his breath. It didn’t help that he was still hard. He would chalk that up to being turned on by biting and nothing to do with the woman lying beneath him.
He’d seen her naked before, but God damn if she didn’t look sexy in that flannel.
“Enough,” he said again, this time without the growl. His return to human fired her up again, but only so that she glared at him. Perhaps she thought she had imagined the animalistic sound he’d made.
“Let me go.” Her voice was low, her attempt at deadly.
Connor smiled. His cheek stung from where she’d head-butted him. He owed her for that.
“You know I won’t.” He listened to her heart race, could smell the desperation on her.
“He’s going to figure out I lied to him. You said it yourself. Let me go.”
“I don’t turn up with you in tow, Frankie’ll think I let you go. And believe me, he’ll still find you. But I don’t plan on taking a whooping from his Hulk on your behalf.”
“If I show up with you, he might think you hacked his computer. Which you did. I might tell him so.”
“Be my guest.” He knew she wouldn’t. Right now they would be arriving as Frankie’s guests, ignorant of his motives for deciding to bring her along. If she brought up the hack, he’d know it had been her. “Who knows,” he said. “Maybe you can convince Frankie you’re really there for him.”
She scowled. “How?”
“Same way you tried to convince him to bring you in the first place.” Whether it was to punish her for running away, for head butting him, a sadistic desire to see her reaction, or for some other twisted reason, Connor pressed himself between her legs. He was still hard.
He watched her eyes dilate, heard her heart skip several beats, felt her breath catch, all a moment before she dug her knees into his sides and attempted to shoved him away.
Connor chuckled as he stood, leaving her to scramble to her feet on her own. He grabbed her arm, the stain in her cheeks fading back to that delicious golden tan.
“If you run from me again, I’ll knock you out and put you in the trunk. Understood?”
She saluted him, her racing heart betraying her cool tone. “Aye, aye.”
He got a blissful hour of silence as they rejoined the traffic. At this rate, what would normally have been a three-hour drive would turn into six. He was hungry, but he didn’t plan on stopping until they reached the farm. Once there he could hand off his charge and forget her. She was Frankie’s problem, and keeping her cover was hers.
They were passing through Worcester, the traffic finally letting up a bit, when she ended her silent treatment.
“It was your brother, wasn’t it?”
He glanced at her.
“Aidan McKinnon, your club’s tech guy. I looked you up; I just didn’t put it together until now. He was the one who found out who I am, not you.”
Connor returned his attention to the road. He wondered what else she had found out, but wasn’t going to ask. People tended to do more talking if you kept quiet and let them.
She went on, her voice cool and calm, her heart a little panicked. “I’m guessing your harmless MC is a cover for something else.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because, your brother did a search on me, looked into who I really am. If you were just building Frankie a bike, you wouldn’t have needed intel on me.”
Smart girl, he thought, but said nothing.
For a moment she stewed in her own thoughts, maybe waiting for him to prompt her. The woman had little patience.
“You could be a rival of Frankie’s. Some guy who runs his own dogfighting ring looking at the competition, maybe planning to sabotage it.”
“I look like a dogfighter?” He allowed himself a smile, wondering if she knew how ironic that was.
“No.” She had pulled a foot onto the seat and had an arm around her shin. She rested her cheek on her knee and stared at him. “You look like a biker, I guess. You’ve got the tattoos and that dangerous something about you.”
Good. She realized he was dangerous, just didn’t know why.
“I bet your brother didn’t find much, though, did he?”
He answered with silence. She smirked.
“Obviously I didn’t do a good enough job since your brother was able to connect Jenny Cartwright to Casey Keene. I wonder how he did it.” She sat in silence a moment, pondering the genius that was Aidan McKinnon. Even Connor was in awe of his younger brother.
“I know a lot about you, though,” she said with a satisfactory lilt in her voice. “Thirty-six years old. Parents, Jackie and Donald, live in Alaska. Your club’s leaders are all brothers, three of an original seven. Most of your club is related. You’ve never married. You don’t have any social media accounts. You’ve never left the East Coast. And you’ve never been sick, never gone to the hospital, not even as a child.” She glanced at him as she revealed this last bit, as if she didn’t quite believe her own intel. Who never got sick?
He didn’t. None of his family did. Ever.
He found it odd, and more than uncomfortable that she had been able to find out as much as she had. He would have to attribute it to her hacker skills and not some fault of a club member letting information on his family get on the Internet. He would let Aidan know, though. He could get rid of it.
She sniffed and pushed strands of loose hair out of her face.
“I don’t know why you’re here, but I do think the bike is just a cover.” She went back to staring out the window in silence.
Connor sent up a small prayer of thanks, and then he heard the screeching and felt the drag in the trailer behind them.
“Ah, fuck.”
Chapter Fourteen
Casey felt a moment’s joy as they pulled over to the side of the highway, but it vanished when Connor grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard enough that she wanted to cry out, and glared at her, his face way too close to hers.
“You run, you finish this ride in the trunk.”
She rolled her eyes, going for cool and uncaring, but inside snakes twisted in her belly. As Connor climbed out of the car, going around to the trailer, Casey realized she was afraid of him. But why? Because he was stronger than her? A lot of people were. Because he was bigger? Silent? Mysterious?
None of those things explained the fear she felt in his presence. All of them together? Maybe.
He sat back in the driver’s seat and punched a number into his phone. “Tire fell off,” he grumbled.
She glanced out the back window to see the trailer sitting an angle. “Didn’t you check it after we got hit?”
“I did. Obviously it was worse than I thought.” Someone answered, getting his attention. He gave them their location, ended the call, and leaned his head back against the seat.
“What are we doing?”
He spoke with his eyes closed, his Adam’s apple jumping with his words. “Waiting for a new tire.”
“Don’t we have a donut?”
“If we did, don’t you think I would have put it on?”
“What about getting to Frankie’s?”
He sighed. “Can’t go without the bike, can’t get the bike there without the trailer, can’t move the trailer without a new tire. We’ll get there a little later.”
Casey stared at his profile, the hot sun shining through the windshield throwing his face into sharp relief. He looked harmless enough. Well, no, he looked like someone she would normally keep away from. He exuded a don’t-piss-me-off persona, and she had done plenty to piss him off.
“Won’t Frankie be upset?”
His eyes popped open. “My God. Do you ever shut up?”
“Not usually.” She had spent the last two months as a silent ditz. It was nice to be talking again. He stared at her. She pressed her lips together, glaring at him, wishing she could make him disappear.
Finally he leaned back and closed his eyes again.
Casey watched the cars fly by, the sun beginning its descent into the afternoon. The car was still running, the A/C blasting cold air around them. She sighed, breathing deep. A mistake. She got a nose full of Connor, the deliciously heady scent.
“Shouldn’t you let Frankie know?”
He sighed, eyes still closed. “I sent him a text.”
“Was he mad?”
“Do you care?”
“If I’m going to try to convince him that I’m there for him, I’d prefer he be in a good mood, not pissed at us for being late.”
His mouth quirked at the corner. “You might have a better chance if he’s mad. Angry, rough sex. Let him take his anger out in bed and then stay with him. That’ll convince him more than the quick, controlling fucks you’ve been giving him.”
She felt her face get hot. “How would you know what kind of sex Frankie and I have been having?”
He did grin now. “Frankie likes to talk. Tells us all about the women he’s been with, including you.”
She did not like Connor knowing anything about her sex life. Damn Frankie. “He said I’m quick and controlling?”
His smile deepened, his eyes shut. The bastard was enjoying this.
“Don’t get me wrong, he liked it for a while. The quiet, docile woman outside, a domineering wildcat in bed. But he’s over it.”
The A/C was on high, but she felt hot all over. This conversation needed to be finished, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“It was an act.”
He opened his eyes, pinning her with their brilliant depths. His smile lingered, barely. “So Casey Keene is nothing like Jenny Cartwright?”
She shook her head, afraid to open her mouth. She didn’t like how he was looking at her, like she was something to eat.
“Then you’ll have no problem letting him fuck you? Hurt you?”
“Actually I do have a problem with that.”
“Even if it saves your life?”
She frowned. “I don’t like rough sex.” Her voice sounded small in the car. Connor was too close, relaxed in the driver’s seat, watching her with his dazzling eyes.
Those eyes traveled down her body, back up her bare legs, and lingered too long on her mouth before returning to her eyes. She knew she was blushing deeply.
“Maybe not with Frankie,” he said.
“Not with anyone.”
“No?”
She felt her heart racing, couldn’t catch her breath for some reason. She was shaking, but he couldn’t see that.
“Let’s find out.”
He moved too fast. One moment he was sitting in the seat beside her, next he was looming over her, her wrists caught in one hand, his knees between her legs, the seat falling backward so that she was lying helpless beneath him.
But she was far from helpless. She fought, bucked, tried to kick but couldn’t get her legs out from under the dashboard with him over her.
She did not like rough sex. Never had. She preferred to be in control, the one on top, so to speak. So why was this turning her on? If he did anything it would be rape. No, it would be rough sex unless she told him to stop.
Tell him to stop, Casey, she thought.
His eyes darkened as he watched her, like a predator over its prey. His free hand loosened the belt and unbuttoned her jeans. Then he yanked them down, out of the way. She’d stopped fighting to catch her breath, but as his hand slipped into her underwear she gasped and struggled again.
There was no lead up, no build, no kissing or foreplay. His warm fingers found the bare folds of her, parted them, and slid inside. Deep inside. It hurt and she cried out.
“You’re wet. Why are you wet, Casey?”
She growled and arched her back trying to heave him off of her. But he was leaning on her chest just enough to keep her down, her wrists in his hand. He was too heavy, and as she arched, he slid his fingers deeper. She moaned, the pain so sweet.
He smiled and leaned close, his mouth at her ear. “What do you think Frankie’ll do to you?” He slid his fingers out slowly, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out again. “Do you think he’ll be this gentle?”
“Ha! Gentle?” She tried to put as much venom in her words as she could, but she could hear the tremble in her voice.
His laugh was deep, a murmur in her ear. “Not rough enough for you? Allow me to amend my mistake.”
He slammed his fingers into her, hard and deep, over and over.
His teeth nipped her ear, her neck. Something sharp pricked the delicate skin over her collarbone. Were his teeth so sharp?
The sensations wracking her body were foreign, pain and pleasure, fear and longing, hate and need. Though she had never had one during sex, she knew how to bring herself to orgasm. And she could feel one building.
No. She would not give that to Connor. If for no other reason than to prove him wrong, she would not come with his fingers inside her. She tensed, trying to think of something else, anything else, besides the feel of Connor over her, his breath on her neck, in her ear.
He laughed that deep laugh. “Don’t fight it, Casey.” She hated heari
ng her name in his mouth.
Suddenly her hands were free. She moved to fight him, but then her shirt was open, her bare breasts there for his hungry eyes. She tried to cover herself, but he grabbed her hands again, pinning them to the seat above her head.
And then his mouth was on her breast, his stubble scratching the soft skin, his teeth biting the tender peak before sucking it deep into the heat of his mouth where he tortured her with his tongue. All the while he fingers moved inside her. He pressed his thumb to her, and God help her, she moaned, arching her back once more.
He lifted his head, moving to the other nipple. She felt his hand release her wrists. She could fight him now, but she didn’t. Instead, she drove her fingers into his hair, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her, holding her against his erection while his fingers fucked her.
For one delirious moment, as her orgasm began to crest, she wanted nothing more than for him to fuck her with his cock. But that was ridiculous. She hated him. Loathed him.
But that one image was enough to break her. She cried out, stiffening in his arms as she came. His head left her breasts, and she opened her eyes long enough to see him watching her. He drove his fingers deeper, pressing her clit harder, and she couldn’t breathe.
She was lost in this moment, in this man she hated so much.
Chapter Fifteen
Connor watched her face as she came, her smooth mound warm and wet in his hand. She clenched tight around his fingers, her breath caught, and then finally she gasped, releasing her tensed body, and fell back into the seat.
He smiled, sliding his fingers out as she throbbed around him. In those last moments all he wanted was to put his mouth between her legs and taste her.
He’d told himself as he leaned over her that he’d done it to help her. Frankie wouldn’t be nice if he decided to use sex to find out who Casey really was, and Connor was positive Frankie would use sex. Rough, angry, painful sex. Much more so than the generous orgasm Connor had just given her.
But truthfully, he’d done it because he wanted to. He wanted to stick it to the alphas. He wanted to break through her control, shut her up. He wanted to feel her come. And he had. Being what he was he felt things more deeply. He’d felt her heart as it swelled. Felt the desire on her skin, the fear when his fangs emerged, pricking her delicate skin.
