Page 7
For a heartbeat, I study what he looks like beneath me, breathing hard, rain tracking his face, eyes black with fury and something else.
Then his hands rip free and clamp around my hips, dragging me over his hard dick, grinding me on top of him so my clit swells and the victory leaves my lungs entirely.
My body betrays me with a broken whimper I was too late to swallow. His grip tightens, and he does it again, slower this time, hauling me the full length of him, making sure he feels the helpless roll of my hips before I can pretend it’s part of the fight.
My thighs shake around his waist. Four more of those, and I’d come apart on top of him in a wet field, fully clothed, and we both know it.
“Fuck you,” I hiss, but my voice cracks.
He laughs under his breath. “I think you left your pride in the barn and now there’s only the truth.”
“You want the truth, huh?” I grit. “Like how much I hate you.”
His expression morphs into a wicked, feral grin.
In one powerful surge, he flips us again, using his weight and strength to get the upper hand. He’s back on top in a heartbeat, heavier now, more insistent.
His hips settle between my thighs, pressing me open as he snares both of my wrists in one large hand and yanks them above my head. The new angle puts him flush against my clit, and my whole body clenches around nothing.
“Nice try,” he says, though he’s panting. “But you’ll never get the better of me. Tell me to stop.”
He’s gone completely still above me, waiting, sitting right there between us in the rain. One word, and he gets off me. I know it. He knows I know it.
Though I don’t refuse him.
“That’s what I thought,” he breathes.
We’re inches apart, bodies pressed and hips grinding together in the dirt. I arch into it, a needy little moan breaking free, and my legs fall open wider for him without a single instruction. Traitors, both of them.
His hips settle heavier, and he rolls again, studying my face the whole way through.
“Something tells me you like being caught,” he says. “You ran so well, but you kept looking back like you were waiting for the inevitable.”
“Jesus, you’re so full of yourself.”
I hate the shiver that runs through me when his hand moves under my T-shirt, up over my ribs, and his fingers find the soaked cotton of my bra and drag the cup down until my nipple pulls free into the cold.
And just when his lips hover close to mine, and he rolls my nipple between his thumb and finger, pinching it so hard that my back leaves the ground, and I make a whimper I’ll be hearing in my head for weeks, a long, eerie howl carries through the night.
The barking is distant but coming fast, joined by another and another until all we can hear are the dogs.
“For fuck’s sake.” Fionn rears back.
The change in him is instant; whatever wrongful heat or tension had sparked in the moment vanishes beneath a surge of cold, controlled rage.
“Those assholes let the fucking dogs out.”
He withdraws his hand, releases my wrists and squeezes my jaw.
“This isn’t the part where I save you, little wild thing.” His thumb presses into my cheek, forcing my face up. “And it sure as fuck isn’t the part where I give you what you want.”
The fucker is right. I’m throbbing for him while I stare him dead in the eye and lie. “The only thing I want is your blood on my hands and your family’s name ruined.”
“If your brothers have hurt my sister, everything the Tallons own will burn.”
His eyes darken, and then he’s off me. I roll to my side, fix my bra and push up, but my legs are shaky for some reason, and I stumble.
Fionn catches my arm, his fingers wrapping tight, but he doesn’t look at me when he does it.
