My chest squeezes, compressing the air in my lungs. He’s said he loves me before, but never like this… never with this depth of feeling. It shakes me to the bone, because for the first time, I believe him.
I believe him, and I want to say it back.
The realization is like a hammer to my skull. I fought so hard against this, did everything I could to avoid falling for this man, to escape him. Yet even as I ran from him, I knew I was escaping from myself as well, from the dark part of me that wants to embrace my husband’s killer, to give in to the fantasy of a happy life with the assassin who stole me from everyone I love. I fought, I ran, and somewhere along the way, it happened anyway.
I fell for him.
I fell for the man I should hate, a monster whose child I may be carrying.
He holds my gaze, and in his eyes, I see the same fierce longing that I’ve been working so hard to squash. He needs me, this lethal captor of mine, needs me so much he’s willing to do anything to have me. And for some reason, that knowledge no longer terrifies me as much as it once did.
I don’t know if I somehow telegraph my thoughts, or if the abstinence of the past two and a half weeks has been as hard for Peter as it has for me, but the banked fire in his gaze burns brighter and the powerful arm around my waist tightens, drawing me flush against his body.
His hard, fully aroused body.
My own body tightens, clenching on a sudden empty ache as my hands come up to press against his broad chest. I want him, just as I wanted him all those nights at the clinic when I slept cuddled platonically in his embrace. He refused to touch me then, out of concern for my injuries, but I’m no longer hurting—not from injuries, at least.
His head dips, and I welcome his hard, devouring kiss. This is exactly what I want: to be possessed by him, to know the violence of his passion. He’s not gentle any longer, and I don’t want him to be. I want him just like this: rough and nearly out of control, consuming me with his need, making me burn with his overwhelming hunger.
My hands somehow end up in his dark hair, clutching at the thick, silky strands as I kiss him back with matching savagery, our tongues dueling as our bodies strain against each other through the barrier of clothes. I’m breathing hard now, and so is he as he backs me up against the edge of the counter, then lifts me onto it, pulling off my yoga pants and thong in one rough jerk. Then his zipper is down and his thick cock spears into me, making me cry out at the brutal stretch. If I weren’t so wet, he would’ve ripped me, but I’m slick with need, and as he starts thrusting into me, I wrap my legs around his hips, taking him in, embracing everything he has to give.
It’s not long before my body tightens, spiraling toward climax at a dizzying pace, and his thrusts pick up speed, the savage rhythm driving us both to the edge of sanity. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back as the orgasm overtakes him, and I scream, shuddering in agonizing pleasure as my inner muscles clench around his pulsing cock. The hot jets of his seed bathe my insides, and my body spasms again and again, the release lasting an eternity.
Eventually, though, it does end, and I become aware of the unyielding stone of the sleek quartz counter under my back and Peter’s heavy weight pressing me down. We’re both breathing raggedly, and even through the layer of his shirt, I feel the sweat covering his back.
We just fucked on the kitchen counter, where anyone could’ve walked in on us.
We went at it like animals, as if it had been years since we’d had sex instead of weeks.
A manic giggle escapes my throat at the same time as Peter swears furiously under his breath and pushes off me. The thunder-dark expression on his face as he zips up his jeans makes me crack up even more. Gasping with hysterical laughter, I slide off the counter on wobbly legs, and spot my pants and thong wedged under the dishwasher.
I’m naked from the waist down.
My bare ass was on the kitchen counter, like a turkey waiting to be stuffed.
My hysterics reach a new height, and I bend over, laughing so hard tears stream out of my eyes. Peter is staring at me like I’ve gone insane, and that just makes it worse, because I know how I must look, bare-assed and hooting like a madwoman.