Page 106 of Retaliation

“You’re so beautiful, my Little Viper,” he murmured against her, his voice rough with emotion. “I need you to be a good girl and come for me.”

Her response was a mixture of a moan and a sigh, her body tensing under his touch. He could feel the tremors start, the wave building inside her. With one final, deep stroke of his tongue, he sent her over the edge.

Her climax hit her hard, her body convulsing with the force of it. She cried out his name, her voice echoing off the tiles, her grip on the wall tightening. He held her through it, his lips never leaving her heat, drinking in her pleasure as if it were his own.

When the last shudders subsided, he gently lowered her legs, standing to catch her as she sagged against him. She buried her face in his neck, her breaths hot against his skin.

“Phillip,” she whispered, her voice filled with exhaustion and satisfaction. “I—”

He silenced her with a kiss, tender and full of the unspoken promises between them. “I’m not done with you just yet,” he said, tilting her chin to meet her gaze.

THIRTY SEVEN

Before Phillip could claim Poison’s lips again, a loud, insistent banging on the loft door shattered the moment. He froze, a growl rumbling in his chest. Who the fuck dared to interrupt them now?

“Scor! Open up, it’s urgent!” Gunnar’s voice boomed through the door, the urgency cutting through the steam and intimacy of the bathroom.

Poison’s eyes widened, frustration and concern flickering across her face.

“What now?” she muttered, stepping back reluctantly.

“I’ll handle it,” he said, his voice a rough promise.

He stepped out of the shower, water streaming down his jeans, and grabbed a towel. Wrapping it around him, he strode to the loft door, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

He yanked the door open, eyes blazing. Gunnar stood there, his face set in grim lines.

“This better be good,” he growled.

Gunnar’s eyes flicked over Phillip’s wet clothes, then back to his face.

“We’ve got a problem. A big one,” Gunnar said, stepping past him into the loft.

His jaw tightened. He glanced back at Poison, who had followed him, now standing just behind him, a towel wrapped around her. Her eyes sent daggers at Gunnar’s intrusion.

Gunnar’s eyes scanned over her barely covered body, and Phillip fought the urge to step into his view.

“Already playing house, I see,” Gunnar said, smirking, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes.

“Get to the point,” Phillip snapped, his patience thin.

Gunnar’s expression hardened. “Fine, I’ll get straight to it then,” he said with a shrug. “Reaper wants a death match. He’s challenging Poison.”

A chill ran through Phillip, sharper than the cold air. He glanced back at Poison, seeing her face transform from annoyance to fear to a fierce, determined mask. Her eyes blazed with fury.

“So, he wants to fight you before you’re back to full strength.” Phillip’s face hardened as he spoke, his mind shifting into combat mode, calculating every possible outcome. “The fucking coward.”

“Looks like it,” Gunnar confirmed. “What are you going to do about it?” he asked, turning to Poison, his face empty of all emotion.

“I said I’m dropping it, but if he’s challenging me, who am I to say no?” Poison replied, her eyes already distant, focused on formulating a strategy.

Phillip’s heart clenched at her determination. He knew she was fierce, but this wasn’t just another fight; it was a death match against Reaper. A fighter who gets under her skin and is strong enough to have killed her brother and evaded retribution.

“You didn’t happen to hear when he wants to fight, did you?” she asked Gunnar, her voice steady but edged with urgency.

Gunnar shook his head.

“No. My source just told me he wanted a fight, but in the underground, it’s usually no longer than two weeks.”

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