Page 50

I chuckle a little at that, shaking my head. “Geez. Peel one cheek and⁠—”

“Did you?”

“No. That’s not my only move, I’ll have you know. His camera hand’s fingers point the wrong ways now, so he’ll choose a new line of work.”

She stands very still by the door. “You hurt him.”

“Yes.”

“Because he pointed a camera at Sarah.”

“Because he was a threat.” I hold her gaze. “This is what it looks like when the threat has a face and a camera. If he wanted to keep his fingers in mint condition, he should have picked a better career.”

She should recoil, and some of her does. But underneath the appalled part of her is something she likes less and I like more.

Veda crosses the room to me instead of away from me. “A man got hurt. I’m a doctor. I don’t get to feel safer because of it. So why do I?”

“Because you’re just as protective of Sarah as I am, and you would’ve done the same thing.”

She wants to argue against that. I can see the fight in her. But the words never come out.

I take her jaw the way I took it in a hotel doorway a lifetime ago. “Say it. Say what’s on your mind.”

“I feel safer.” It comes out of her dry, low, ashamed, and absolutely honest. “And I hate that violence is what it took to feel safer.”

“That’s my world, doc. Make a choice, because I can’t make it for⁠—”

She kisses me, and I take it, all of it. The wanting and the horror and the choice. She knows what I am. She knows what I do. And she’s here because of it. Feeling safer.

Safety is never guaranteed in my world.

I pull one of her legs over my hip and press her back to the door. Let her feel me there without feeling it. Our clothes are in the way.

Not for long. I shove her panties aside, jerk my pants down, and thrust in. It’s rough because she needs it rough, needs the thinking beaten out of her with my cock, and I oblige. I have her against the door first, hard and fast, one hand at her throat. Gentle enough to be a promise, firm enough to be an answer.

I feel it when she starts. That deep pulse inside her pussy. The faster it goes, the wetter she gets. She comes apart in pieces. “I hate this!”

“You don’t,” I growl at her mouth. “You fucking love it, and you hate that you love it.”

She whines without words, right on the edge again. “I hate you!”

I laugh against her throat. “Liar.”

Then she breaks—truly breaks. Her body goes soft and weak in my arms, and I pull out and toss her onto the bed, face down. I mount her from behind this time, relishing how her ass bounces back for me. Always. No matter how fucked up things are in her head, her body knows what she wants.

Her words are muffled from the mattress, but I hear the tone. The hate that means something else completely. The lies she has to tell herself to keep true to the story in her head. Even when the truth is what makes her come on me again.

Finally, her whole body jerks as she punches the bed and shouts, “Fuck!”

That’s what does it. When she surrenders to her pleasure, I lose control. My hips beat against her harder and harder, until my body demands release, and I give it. I give it all to her.

I pull out, watching myself drip out of her. But I press my hand there, keeping the rest of it inside.

“What are you… What are you doing?”

“I marked my territory. Can’t let that go to waste.”

She laughs, then climbs from the bed, hustling to the bathroom. “I’m not yours. Remember?” The door closes behind her.