by Layla Frost
I was vaguely aware of his groan before he ordered, “Say it again.”
“What?”
With each hard, powerful thrust, his words were a staccato. “Say. My. Name. Again.”
Against my will, my lids drifted close as I was thrown toward the edge. It was too much. Too fast. I didn’t want to come again. I couldn’t take it.
My eyes snapped open when a hand closed around my neck, squeezing just enough to make my breaths come in ragged pants.
“Say it.” He slowed to a halt.
Desperate for the orgasm I’d sworn I couldn’t handle, I didn’t hesitate before begging, “Please, Alexander.”
“Please what?”
“Move.”
He did as I ordered, fucking me with the same mindless desperation I felt down to my soul. The tension that’d been painfully coiled below my navel tightened even further. My racing, random thoughts cleared as the coil came undone.
As I came undone.
“Christ, Briar,” Alexander grunted. I was grateful some semblance of brain function had returned because I wanted to memorize the way he said my name.
Like it was a prayer not a curse.
Copying him, I gripped his throat, a thrill traveling through me at the hint of power my—likely ineffective—hold brought and the way his pulse slammed beneath my palm. “Say it again.”
He did one better.
Lowering his head so my hand was tighter to his throat, he gave me another memory I wanted to carve into my brain so it was as permanent as my scars. “Knew you’d become my obsession, Briar.”
With a few more forceful thrusts, Alexander buried himself deep. Stretching me. Filling me with his cock and his come as he groaned. Once he was done, he arched his back so he could drop his head to my neck while keeping our connection.
I knew what would happen once he pulled out.
My brain would start up again.
Shame would twist its way through me like weeds, spreading to cover and snuff out all the good that’d grown.
Guilt for allowing myself that tiny and temporary garden of goodness would crush in on me.
I’d lash out or pull away or freak the hell out. Or, more likely, all three. The tingle of anxiety was already moving up my spine, tensing my muscles.
I wanted to get it over with. Rip it off like a Band-Aid.
I pushed at his shoulders to remove his weight from me, but he didn’t budge.
“I told you I didn’t want to see you again,” I whispered, resentment and disappointment clogging my throat. “Or do you not actually watch the cameras you illegally invaded my privacy with?”
“Trust me, I watch.” His lips trailed casually up my neck, as if he had all the time in the world. As if I wasn’t on the verge of a meltdown.
As if he had any right to be there. Touching me. Tasting me.
“Get off,” I hissed.
“Just did. So did you—twice.”
His blunt words left me momentarily speechless. I’d never had anyone talk to me like that.
I liked it.
A lot.
And not just because of the fresh lust that shot through me, making my stomach clench in a good way. I liked that he wasn’t carefully selecting his words for fear of upsetting me.
I hid all that and scowled. “You’re an ass.”
Rather than being insulted, he let out a small chuckle that sounded and felt too damn good. “Yeah.”
Disgruntled, I tried to shift out from under him, but it was impossible. I seethed silently as I tried to figure out what to do.
And then I was silent because he wasn’t.
Propping himself up with one hand, he stroked my hair back with his other. “This is happening, Briar. Not letting you pull away or cut this off before we see what’s here.”
His words—and the firmness in them—caught me by surprise.
I’d spent my childhood desperately trying to be perfect so people would want me around. When I’d realized it was pointless, I’d switched to pushing them away before they could hurt me by doing the same. It’d been far easier because, most of the time, they’d already been halfway out the door.
But not Alexander.
Which was weird and made me even more suspicious of him.
“Why?” I asked, doing nothing to soften my incredulous tone.
In the dim light, I could see the faintest hint of a smile. “Because I want it. And, despite how your brain is trying to twist it into something bad and wrong, I know you do, too.”
Since I couldn’t argue with that bit of truth, I pointed out, “This is something bad and wrong.”
“Says who?”
“Anyone. Everyone. If my therapists found out, I’d be institutionalized.”
He twirled a lock of my hair between his skilled fingers. “Fuck them. Do you think it’s bad and wrong?”
The logical part of my brain did.
Him breaking into my apartment multiple times—including earlier since I’d definitely locked the door—was bad.
Him installing cameras was wrong.
Him using said cameras to study me so thoroughly was bad.
Him initially being willing to… assist in ending my life was wrong.
And him cutting me for emotional release and physical pleasure or whatever was definitely bad and wrong.
Sure, he’d given me an outlet for the thunderstorms in my head, but it was a fucked up one, which was why I answered, “I should.”
“There’s no should or shouldn’t. You can feel what you feel.” He dropped himself so his weight was half on me, his head was on my pillow, and his lips were pressed to my forehead.
I was trying to convince myself it wasn’t incredibly comfortable because I needed to move away so I could then convince him to get the hell out.
Before I could, he quietly asked, “How much of your life did you waste trying to live it for other people? Or always doing what you should?”
Well, hell. So he can read my body and my mind?
The blow of irreversible regret I always felt at my squandered life hit me square in the chest. All that time wasted before I learned how finite it really was…
Before his questions could send me into a meltdown, he kept talking. Sharing. “I was the same way. I did what I thought I was supposed to do.”
It might’ve made me cold or bitchy, but I hated listening to other people’s stories. They were riddled with toxic positivity, claiming they made things better with a smile and a can-do attitude.
But, like everything else, it was different with Alexander. I wanted to know more about him.
Which was why I prompted, “And?”
“And I got nothing in return. Nothing good, at least. So I started doing what I want.”
“Which includes breaking and entering,” I muttered, though there wasn’t any anger in my voice.
If I’d expected an apology or justification, I wasn’t getting it. “Exactly.” He pulled me even closer than our already close. “It took me too long to learn I didn’t have to live by someone else’s rules or their idea of normal. Neither do you. You’re in control.”
You’re in control.
That continued to echo through my head. Not just the words themselves, but the firm and confident way he said them. As if they were fact.
As if it were true.
With his body mostly blanketing mine, his words playing on repeat, and his gentle fingertips skimming my naked skin, I began to relax.
And then, surprisingly, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Eighteen
Okay
Briar
For an amazing smelling body… er, body wash
“WE’RE GOING OUT to dinner tonight.”
I glanced at the man standing across from me. The one I’d spent the night under. The one I’d been spending the morning trying to ignore.
The one who was making that attempt incredibly difficult—and not just because he kept talking, his deep voice effortlessl
y filling the space left by my awkward silence.
It was because he was just so damn distracting.
His hair was damp from taking a shower. In my shower. Naked! He even smelled like my body wash, though the scent had mixed with some manly something or another in his skin to magically leave him smelling like woodsy, spiced vanilla rather than just a cupcake.
Although he’d redressed in his dark slacks and soft sweater from the night before, the image of him exiting my bathroom in just a towel was seared into my eyelids forever. All abs and muscles and lucky droplets of water that got to cling to said abs and muscles.
“I can’t,” I lied quickly and easily before I’d even made the conscious decision to do so.
“Liar.”
“I have work.”
“Your shift ends at five.”
“And then I have therapy.”
“Not on Saturdays.”
Narrowing my eyes, I was about to say my sessions were rearranged when I remembered that it wouldn’t be a lie. According to Derrick, he and Dr. Linda thought I needed to add another weekly session.
Because I was failing.
As per the usual.
Angry at… everyone, I snapped, “Fine. I don’t want to go out. Happy?”
The crazy—or crazier—thing was, as he came around the island, he did look happy. “With you? Fuck yes. But don’t lie to me. I’ll always know.”
“No, you won’t. No one does.” My smooth lying was a carefully honed skill. I’d probably make a fortune at the poker tables in Vegas if it weren’t for the fact I hated bright lights.
And noise.
And people.
And I have no money to gamble.
Other than that, though, I was golden.
“I do.” Tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, he trailed a fingertip lightly along my jaw. “Because I actually see you, Briar.” His featherlight touch changed as he tightly grasped my chin and tilted it up. “That’s how I know you’ve spent the morning convincing yourself we’re just fucking.”
He was right, and the way he could easily read me was both anger inducing and disconcerting.
After a lot of thinking—and overthinking—I’d decided it would be okay to keep seeing him so long as it was casual. No strings attached. No dates. No labels. Definitely no more stalking.
Nothing beyond sex.
I mean, okay, even though he’d balked with me, I was pretty sure he was still a killer—honorable motives aside. At the very least, he’d contemplated it even if he hadn’t followed through. There was no doubt he and his cameras were definite stalkers. Not to mention, unless he’d gone on a huge donation rampage, he was still rich.
And if that weren’t enough—which it was by a long, insane mile—there was the simple fact I wasn’t in a place to get involved with anyone. I also had no desire to. Ever. Not Joe Normal, and certainly not someone with issues. I had my own brand of crazy to deal with, I couldn’t handle anyone else’s.
But none of that changed the fact he made me… happy? Happy-ish? Happy adjacent?
Maybe not that far, but he did settle my soul. If we kept it lowkey, that calm could last for a little while.
Probably.
Maybe.
Meeting his gaze, I said, “I just think—”
“Way too fucking much. It’s no wonder you’re exhausted.”
“I’m not—”
“Briar, we’re going out.”
“It’s not a good idea to—”
“You’re right, it’s a great fucking idea.”
Frustrated at being constantly interrupted, I tore my chin from his grip and glared at him. “I told you, I don’t want to go out with you. Fuck, take the hint I’m banging you over the head with. I’m letting you dodge a bullet, be grateful and get out while you can.”
Alexander moved suddenly, grabbing my hips and lifting me onto the small kitchen table before positioning himself between my spread legs. With one hand encircling my upper thigh and the other gripping my chin again, he held me in place. “I don’t want out, and neither do you. You want this just as badly as I do.” He slid his hand down to cuff my throat, squeezing just enough to send a thrill of adrenaline down my spine and a surge of moisture between my legs. “And not just for me to fuck you and cut you. Though I’ll do the first every damn chance I get.” He tightened his hold on my thigh, making my wounds burn. “And the other any time you really need it.”
The sting of pain.
The firmness in his hold.
His direct words.
And the intense, inferno burning in his honey eyes.
It all worked together to make that current of electricity buzz through my veins, as if my entire body was being powered up. Coming to life.
Turning way the hell on.
His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in it. I braced, thinking he was pissed. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been goading him. But when he used his hold on my thigh to drag me to the edge of the table, it definitely wasn’t his rock-hard anger I was feeling.
Lowering his head, he took my mouth, grinding himself against me.
He kissed the way he fucked. Wild and frantic and crazed.
Like he couldn’t get close enough to me.
Like he couldn’t get enough of me.
At the feel of his body moving away, I reached out to yank him back to me.
“Settle, flower,” he whispered against my mouth, even though his voice was filled with satisfaction. With just enough space, he moved an arm between us, teasing his fingers along the waistband of my leggings before forcing his hand inside. Between the awkward angle and the tight confines, it couldn’t have been comfortable, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. No, his single-minded pursuit was centered around finding a way to touch me.
Just as single-minded in our shared pursuit, I released my grip on his shoulders and tugged my leggings down as best as I could. It wasn’t much, but it did allow him to finally slam a thick finger inside me.
The same way he seemed to read my mind, he read my body. He touched me just right, his finger stroking and thrusting as the heel of his palm ground against my clit. My hands shot out to clutch his shoulders again so I didn’t slide across the table.
Even if I wanted to hold back—to stubbornly not give him what he was so desperate to earn—it was impossible. All the intrusive thoughts, stresses, and anxieties flew from my mind as my body came apart in a way only he was capable of eliciting.
Still clutching at him.
Still panting.
Still buzzing as his finger glided in and out of me.
He picked that moment and struck. “We’re going out.”
I must’ve been weaker than I thought because the words flew from my mouth before I could stop them. “I don’t like going out. I feel awkward and on edge.”
He didn’t tell me I was stupid or dramatic—though I was both. Rolling with it effortlessly, he offered a compromise. “Then we’ll eat dinner at my place.”
Again, my answer flew out before I could even think. “Okay.”
I knew I’d regret my agreement as the day progressed. But right then, at the way he grinned down at me, I didn’t care.
Especially when he added, “And then I’ll eat you.”
That time, my answer was even more instantaneous. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he echoed, his pleased expression returning to pure, molten magma as he slid his finger out of me. Holding my stare, he raised it to his mouth to licked it clean.
It had no business being so damn erotically hot.
He had no business being so damn erotically hot.
My breath caught as he gripped my hips, but it came out in a disappointed rush when he simply helped me to my feet and tugged my leggings back into place before stepping away.
“I have an IUD,” I blurted.
He lifted his chin. “Good to know.”
“So we can…” I started, my gaze reflexively dropping to the bulge that pressed against his
slacks.
He closed the small distance he’d put between us in order to take my mouth in a kiss so unhinged, it hurt my already puffy and oversensitive lips. But as I was quickly learning, Alexander’s pain always came with pleasure.
Tearing himself away, he stepped back as he studied my face. He ran his fingers through his messy hair before bringing his hand down to swipe his full bottom lip with his thumb. “I like seeing you so alive.”
For the first time in a very long time…
I kinda liked being alive, too.
Chapter Nineteen
Virtues
Briar
For time
“BRIAR, THERE YOU are.”
I looked out of the cage to see Melody—one of the other shelter employees—rushing my way. Some of the glee in her expression dimmed as her brows lowered. “Why’re you sitting in a dog bed?”
“Monkey see, monkey do,” I explained before amending, “or in this case, puppy see, puppy do.”
Since the pup in question was still cowering in the corner on the cold cement, it didn’t seem to be working.
“Right,” she drawled. Seeming to remember why she’d been hunting for me, she grinned. “You have a visitor.”
I didn’t have to ask who. I’d been expecting him eventually, though not so early. I should’ve known he wouldn’t risk me bolting.
Which I’d definitely considered, but I’d known there was a snowball’s chance in hell of me succeeding.
“Any way you can tell him I already left?” I asked, not holding out much hope.
The tiny sliver of it vanished completely as the loud metal door was opened and closed before Alexander came into view.
“I’m gonna go with no,” Melody said, not hiding her amusement.
Sometime between leaving my apartment that morning and right then, he’d changed into a pair of well-fitting jeans and a long-sleeved Henley. He’d looked amazing in the slacks and sweater.
He looked unreal and celebrity levels of gorgeous in the casual outfit.
Venomous ghosts whispered through my head, nurturing the seeds of doubt and cynicism.
