Page 59 of Primal

When I finally finish, Braken continues to stare at me without saying anything. I shift under his gaze, nowextremelyaware of the fact that I’m in comfy home clothes not meant for public consumption, hair an actual disaster, his handiwork all over my throat and shoulders.

Braken clears his throat and saves me from my misery. “And?”

I blink. “And?”

“Why the fuck would I care?”

The simple question leaves me stunned. Why would hecare? Isn’t it fucking obvious?

“Because—” I stumble over my words for a better way to say ‘Braken, you actual dumbass.’ “Because you’re marrying a Godwin? And Mason was murdered on your turf? That’s the only reason you’re helping find his murderer.”

Braken starts laughing. Laughing! It’s a deep, throaty sound that makes me flush. What exactly is funny?

“Are you accusing me of whoring out for your family ties?” His laughter turns into quiet chuckles. “I don’t need your damn ties, Fiora. The Frosts have enough power. If anything, your father needsme.”

“Then…” I try to piece it together, sitting up on the side table. “Why the hell are you helping if it’s not for us? This is a mark against you.”

“It’s not a mark against me until you have the Frost last name.” Braken smirks. “We’re not husband and wife yet. Your brother’s murder has nothing to do with me. I’m helping foryou.”

The admission leaves me dumbfounded. “For me?”

“I could have said no at any time.” Braken steps closer, and my breath hitches. Darkness is brewing in his eyes, something I should be scared of, but if anything, it makes my blood race. “I may have agreed to your father’s terms, but that doesn’t mean shit. I chose to make you my girl.”

I don’t know what to say. My head swims with the wine and his confession. This whole time, I thought he was in this to embarrass me. That he wasn’t serious about finding Mason, because it was just a stepping-stone to claiming part of the Godwin power. But he’s been in this for… me? Maybe I misunderstood him from the beginning.

“Then?”

Braken comes even closer, stopping dangerously close to my electrified body. He’s so close that I can reach out, grab his button-up, and pull him between my legs again. I consider doing it, too. Maybe another intense orgasm will be just the thing I need to clear my messed-up mind.

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Fiora,” he chastises in a voice so low it goes straight to my soul. “You’ve been mine since I laid eyes on you at Mason’s funeral.” He pauses. “Actually, fuck that. You’ve been mine since the first time you turned on the red light, and I hunted you.”

His bold claim makes my stomach flip. I should refute. I should kick and scream and tell him he’s wrong. But the truth is: he’s not. Braken Frost owns me in heart and body. His ring is on my finger, and his dick has tainted me for the rest of my life.

So, fuck it.

I reach out for his shirt and tug him back to where he belongs. I wipe away his smirk with a hard press of our lips. The fire between us ignites again, even stronger than before. He’s as desperate as I am, as we tear at each other’s clothes, pawing at buttons and ties to get as close as possible. His tongue pushes into my mouth and wrestles with mine, swift fingers already inside his shorts and cupping my pussy.

It’s only been a day since he took me at his hotel, but my body already sings for him. My hips jerk into his touch, my head falling back as he kisses down my throat. He laps at the marks he made last night, still bruised blue and red against my skin, before making more to join them. His fingers push into my panties, and I moan as soon as he starts running them along my wet folds.

“God, you’ve ruined me,” I whine, hurrying to finish unbuttoning his shirt.

“There’s no running back to little Marco now.” He laughs against my skin.

The mention of Marco makes me sigh and sober up fast. “You have to bring him up now?”

He pushes his finger into me, drawing a moan from my swollen lips. “All I’m saying,” he teases, just as his fingers tease me with a slow rhythm, “is that you won’t be crawling back to his dick.”

“I’ve never been with Marco,” I inform. “At least not to that extreme.”

He freezes, studies my face, and then smiles in what I can only assume is relief or satisfaction. “I don’t know why I assumed you had.”

“And I won’t be crawling back to any dick,” I add with a huff, throwing open his shirt. God, how is he so fucking sexy? This is my first time seeing him shirtless, but I hope to God it’s not the last. His abs ripple when I drag my nails over them, the sprawling tattoos on his arms covering his pecs and his sides. I stare at the heave of his chest when I mutter, “Unless you really plan on sharing me like you and your little buddies have suggested.”

Braken immediately stops. I whine for more friction, but he rips his finger from me and holds my hips down against the side table.

“Careful, Fiora. You don’t want to open that door unless you’re ready to walk through it.”

I scrunch my nose in confusion at the warning on his face. “You all have made it sound like I don’t have a choice in the matter. Or is it all for show? All talk?”

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