Page 8 of Hostile Bond
“Then do it…” My voice is hoarse as if I’ve swallowed broken glass without liquid to wash it down. “Come here,” I snarl, the primal urge to fully claim her taking over.
I don’t need to ask her twice. She carefully picks her way through the devastation, wincing when her little feet crunch over sharp edges. Her flinch of discomfort stabs me with razor-edged slivers of guilt, compelling me out from behind the desk. In four single-minded strides, I’m circling her waist and hauling her up into the ventilated air. Grateful legs wrap around my hips and her arms loop my neck.
Linked by limbs and body heat, I carry my wife to the desk and sit her on the clear surface. Being this close to her again makes my blood rush and my temperature soar. I kiss her throat, grazing my teeth along the curve of her jaw and settle my lips at the shell of her ear to speak. Except nothing comes out. I want to reassure her that everything will be okay. That we’d have a family of our own one day and live happily ever after.
However, I’ve known this way of life for thirty years. Where there’s wealth and supremacy––there are also massacres and imprisonment. If our enemies don’t catch up with me first, the federal agents just might. It’s not like my conscience is clear. I’ve done bad things. We all have.
In the meantime, I’ll worship her and dowhateverit takes to keep her safe. My stomach twists from all the pent-up anger. I need to bury myself inside my wife and take refuge in the rush her body always injects me with.
She gasps when I pull my sweat laden t-shirt up and over my head, the urge to feel her skin next to mine an urgent compulsion. Following my lead, she undresses in a rush while I unbuckle my belt and free my cock from behind the zipper.
She stares up at me, her neck craning to meet my hooded eyes. A part of me simply wants to hug the woman I adore, to feel her heartbeat thrumming against my chest. But another part of me struggles to suppress the bitterness of violence hurtling through my soul on the hunt for an outlet.
I’m mentally exhausted from the turmoil I’d found myself floundering in. Maybe I shouldn’t have killed the two guards who’d stood at either side of her on the rooftop. Except they knew the score. And once you’ve witnessed the trauma of a catastrophic bomb blast from the street below, knowing one of your most loyal friends was blown to pieces, only then could anyone begin to comprehend how my heart is literally ripping apart. There aren’t many people I trust––Reno was one of the few.
On that helipad, Sinéad was exposed to any asshole who wanted to fuck with me.
Those guards put my wife at risk—and that’s unforgivable.
But my reaction makes me just as psychotic as my father had been, and that awareness alone burns the bones under my flesh, the lava-like substance born from poisonous hatred.
Violence prickles over me, an inescapable net that fails to trap what little patience I have left for this hell I’ve entered. Every man responsible will die.
As if sensing my internal anarchy, a warm palm settles on my cheek, her thumb dragging my bottom lip lower.
“I’m here, Dré,” she whispers with that sexy as fuck Irish accent of hers.
Her gentle touch temporarily snares my spiraling grief and offers it a safe place to settle. I stare into her empathetic eyes, so fucking magical and persuasive in their ability to calm my demons.
My crimson stained hands swoop to her face, harshly cupping her sun-kissed cheeks. The twitch in my jaw warns her of my volatile state of mind, how the solid earth beneath my boots is crumbling to dust. Grimy fingertips dig into her cheeks, puckering her lips before me. With her beautiful face this close to me after the day I’ve had, my heart pounds so violently it almost cracks a rib.
“I need you…” I manage to growl with cramping lungs.
“You have me,” she breathes.
Her admission winds me, the whisper of it caresses my aching heart and makes my turbulent emotions so damn intense. Too much to handle.
I’ve never told a woman I needed her, because all of them had never mattered before. Nor did I ever think hearing such an honest declaration in return would torch my old pleasure-seeking ways. She’s my lighthouse, my safe haven in the hurricane that’s destroyed my life. A buffer in the war zone where the Souzas are moving in for the kill.
I do my best to keep my head above the dark ocean waves I’m drowning in, to grab onto the life raft she’s offering me. Sinéad weaves delicate fingers through my hair, curling them around the lengths and yanking my face down to meet hers. The tip of her nose brushes mine, her quick puffs of air landing on my skin with feverish heat.
“I thought something had happened to you, Dré.” She stares into my eyes with a subtle flare of shyness. “I was impatient. I wanted this… to be with you.” Her neck stretches upward, and her warm lips settle over mine, the sensation whisper soft. “Let me in...”
I shiver on the edge of darkness and suck in a tattered breath. Syrupy fresh blood smears her face, transferred from my murderous hands. Hands vibrating with so much wrath that even I’m afraid of what I’m truly capable of. She winces when I snarl, grappling with unhallowed urges fighting to come out.
She gently cuffs my wrists and boldly shuffles closer. “André… I’m yours.”
Those words are my saving grace, the one thing I needed to hear and didn’t realize how much it would cement her in my heart forever.
My mouth crashes over hers, hard and forceful. The taste is toxic bliss––the need I have for her is all-consuming and greater than love. There isn’t a label I could pick that would accurately depict the tangled emotions she stirs within me.
I pull her into me, my hands jumping to her plump ass to shunt her even closer to my boner. When she moans into my mouth, I let go and don’t hold back. My hands roam, the strokes hungry and possessive. They sink into the silky lengths of her hair. Knead her lush tits, roughly manipulating her hard nipples. There isn’t a section of skin left untouched, most of it wetted by my lips and dragging tongue.
I grab her heart-shaped chin and dive in for another kiss, deepening the pressure while pushing her to lie flat on her back. My stunning wife is spread out before me, vulnerable and decorated with crimson smudges from my destructive behavior.
I’m temporarily dazed by the way she looks… so fucking sexy, stealing the lead role in the theater of war.
Rearing off her, I grab her knees and spread her legs wide, wedging my hips between them. I should be gentle, but my fingertips burrow into her bones, my impulses fired up with one singular mission. Every time my hands move across soft, warm flesh, the contact sparks and our chemistry explodes.
