Page 70 of Fierce Pursuit

The impact knocked the air from both of us, my body crashing against hers as we slid through the thick, cold mud. It clung to us like a second skin, seeping through our clothes. The raw scent of wet soil and her vanilla perfume filled my lungs as I struggled to keep her pinned.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I demanded.

"Getting away from you," she bit out.

She struggled under me, lashing out with her hands. Her fingers curled into claws as she scratched and bit at me, trying desperately to throw me off of her body.

My grip slipped in the slick mud, and she used the opportunity to buck her hips, nearly dislodging me.

The sudden friction sent a jolt of heat through my core.

I grabbed her wrists tighter, my fingers digging into her skin as I pressed her deeper into the mud. Her chest heaved against mine with each furious breath, the thin fabric of her sweater clinging to every curve.

It took me a few minutes, and I probably had several scratches running down my cheeks by the time I got her wrists pinned above her head in the mud.

Her hair was splayed out in dark tendrils, mud-streaked and wild. Every inch of her fought against me—her legs thrashing, her spine arching—each movement more intoxicating than the last.

"Stop struggling," I yelled, ignoring the way my cock ached as I held her down.

Rage painted her face, and it was fucking beautiful.

Her lips parted, revealing clenched teeth, a bright contrast to the mud spattered across one cheek.

Our bodies slid against each other with every movement, the mud creating a maddening friction between us.

Fuck, why did I enjoy her fighting me so damn much?

"Do you not realize how many people are trying to kill you right now?"

"You're one of them.” She lifted a knee and if I had been a second slower, she would have nailed me square in the balls. I caught her thigh, pushing it down and inadvertentlywedging myself between her legs, our bodies locked in a primal struggle for dominance.

God, she was feisty.

"I'm protecting you," I snapped. "If I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."

She let out a bitter laugh, wild and desperate. "No. You're a sadistic son of a bitch like the rest of them. You like to play with your prey. I'm not your captive. I'm not some mouse you get to toy with before you shoot me in the head." Her voice broke with fury. "Let me go. I won't be a pawn in whatever twisted game you and Solovyov are playing that got my sister killed."

"I did not kill your sister."

The words burned coming out of my mouth.

"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't be here, chasing you through the fucking mud," I said through clenched teeth. "I would have taken care of you the second you stepped foot into your apartment. Or I could have shot you on your way to work. What kind of man do you think I am?"

Her lip curled in disgust. "The kind of man who kills his wife and then fucks her sister."

Red-hot fury flashed through me.

I could have screamed the truth in her face. I could have told her that Veronika was a selfish bitch who had fucked everyone but her own husband. That she had gotten herself killed.

But that would have shattered something between us I wasn't ready to break.

She could hate me.

She could lie to herself, tell herself she didn't want me.

It didn't matter.

Because I wanted her.

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