Obsession (The Plus One Chronicles) (15 page)

“If I don’t? You planning on forcing me?”

Sloane fisted his hand deep into the mattress. He could do it and they both knew it. Sloane was ready and willing to fight like hell to keep Drake with him.

But it wasn’t his choice.

Seconds ticked by as he wrestled with his locked jaw and the knives trying to slice up his chest. He was losing control of everything in his life. Drake was dying. Ethan had had a heart attack. That motherfucker Foster haunted Sara at her grave. He’d had to hold himself back from protecting Kat when David threatened her with that scalpel.

And if he killed Foster, he’d lose Kat. How did he choose?

But this choice about the IV wasn’t his. “No.” He forced his hand to unclench and clasped Drake’s shoulder. “But I’m asking you to do it. Please.”

Drake kept his gaze, then nodded.

Two hours later Drake was asleep, and frustration rode Sloane hard, driving him to his studio. Wearing nothing but shorts and taped hands, he cranked up the music, went through his stretching warm-ups then headed for the heavy bag.

All the while, in his head, he heard the clock ticking down to Drake’s death and Sloane’s choice.

Did he let Foster live, turning his back on Sara’s memory and living every moment in fear that he’d find Kat raped and murdered like Sara?

Or kill Foster and watch Kat’s love die?

* * *

Kat opened the door to the studio off the garage. A dark, throbbing beat pounded from the speakers, broken only by hard thuds.

Intensity crackled in her veins, and her breath whooshed out at the sight of Sloane. Wearing only shorts, he moved with blinding speed as he attacked the heavy bag with kicks and punches.

His back bulged and released, his arms flexed powerfully, and when he jumped and spun into a flying kick, the sheer force of Sloane cutting through the air created a breeze. He landed in a crouch, his thighs and calves exploding with muscles beneath his bronzed skin.

She could nearly taste his pain on the air.

“Kat.”

She walked to him. “I’m here.”

He stood facing the heavy bag, hands down, head dropped. “He’s dying.”

Her eyes blurred, but she blinked it away. However much she hurt at losing Drake, what Sloane was enduring was a million times worse. “Not today.” Drake had told her so. Told her he was determined to live until Sloane faced down his sister’s killer, and that was why he’d agreed to the IV that he hated. Then he’d told Kat to go find Sloane.

Sloane turned, his gaze sliding over her face and down her workout clothes to her bare feet. Then he snapped his gaze up. “Why are you dressed to work out?”

“Thought you might need a sparring partner to work off some of your tension. My turn to ask a question. Why are your hands taped?”

“Protect my knuckles and wrist bone when I punch.” He stepped into her space, the gold chips in his eyes glittering. “And there’s no fucking way we’re sparring. I’m too amped up, and you’re still a little sore.”

Kat’s blood fired the second he got in her face. “Good to know if I ever take up boxing.” Then she smiled. “And sparring is happening.”

“I’m serious, Kat. Go inside. It was bad enough holding back yesterday and letting you disarm Dickhead. I can’t hold back now.”

His scent washed over her, soap, sweat and a deep agitation that jerked her up to her toes until his warm breath brushed her face. “That’s really going to suck for you then.”

The cords on his neck stood out. “What is?”

“If you don’t fight back.” She aimed a punch toward his face.

Sloane blocked with his forearm like he was brushing off a fly. “Knock it off.”

Crap, like hitting cement. “Not happening, champ. Do you know why?” She stepped back and dropped into her fighting stance.

Sloane eyed her. “Why?”

“Because that’s not who we are. We don’t hold back from each other. Last night you needed some space, I gave it to you. Tonight, your luck ran out.” Balancing on her bad leg, she snapped her left leg into a knee strike.

Sloane jumped back, his eyes narrowed as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “Kitten, you get one chance. Walk away. Or I’m coming after you.” Slowly, he started pulling the tape off one hand.

The way he purposely unwound that long strip of tape dried her mouth. Tingles popped out on her skin, and her nipples pebbled. “And?”

Sloane looped the first strip of tape around his neck like a towel and started unwrapping the second hand. “I’ll take you to the mat, rip your clothes off and give you the full force of me as I fuck you.” Sloane tossed that second strip away and fixed his hard gaze on her. “Run.”

A blast of raging desire gripped her core. He needed this, needed some kind of release that was deeper than fighting or screwing. “I don’t run from you.” She aimed a punch straight for his solar plexus.

Sloane shot his hand out, catching her forearm, and tugged. “You can’t beat me.”

The strip of athletic tape hanging from his neck dangled between them, taunting her. Why had he tossed one aside and kept the other? Did she want to find out?

Hell yeah.

Kat widened her stance, leaned in, pushing her elbow in to force Sloane’s wrist to an unnatural bend and loosen his grip, then she shoved her arm up, breaking the hold. “I have the advantage. You’re afraid of hurting me.”

Sloane advanced on her, blocking every punch with ridiculous ease. Before she could plan a move, he lunged, curling one arm behind her shoulder and sweeping her legs into his other arm. He dropped to his knees and eased her to the mat.

Stunned, Kat tried to roll away.

He threw a leg over her, mounted her hips and caught her hands.

Jesus he was fast. She heard her own panting over the beat of the music.

He clamped her wrists to the mat and leaned down. “Don’t ever ask me to stand there and do nothing while you fight a man holding a blade on you again.”

She stopped struggling, entranced by the man pinning her to the floor. Fury radiated from him. “You’re mad at me?”

“I’m so goddamned proud of you I can barely breathe.” A beat passed. “But you’re mine. I protect what’s mine. I had to watch helplessly when you were in that out-of-control limo, and then just stand there last night.” His jaw locked, shoulders bulged, veins popped, yet he slid one finger gently along the fading bruise on her face.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re mine.” It came out a rumble. “You’re in my studio, I’m in control now.” Letting go of her wrists, he caught the end of her shirt and stripped it off. Tossed it aside.

The air conditioning hit her exposed skin, clashing with the heat. All she wore now were her low-riding pants and Sloane straddling her.

He trailed one finger down her throat to the swell of her breast to tease her nipple.

She hissed, shocked at the hot streak of fire that arrowed straight down. Too much, too fast. It was all the emotion roiling between them inflaming her desire. The need to be filled and claimed by him surged up, stealing her breath with its intensity. She grabbed his wrist, trying to hold on to her sense of power. She didn’t want to give it to him without a fight.

She wanted him to take it.

His gaze snapped to hers. “Too late, baby. I’m in control.”

She stared into his eyes, measuring what he needed, what the two of them together had.
No holding back.
That’s what they had. “You think I’m that easy to beat, that weak?” She dropped her hand as if giving up.

His face blanked, and he relaxed his thighs pinning her. “Kat—”

Sucker
. She twisted over to her belly, scrabbling to slide out from under him. She got a few inches before he grabbed her around her waist, lifting her on her knees and yanking her back up to his chest. One arm locked around her ribs.

“Do you feel what you’ve done to me?” He pressed his engorged cock against her lumbar. Sloane drew his hand down her belly, beneath her pants. Thick fingers teased her seam, brushing back and forth. He licked the shell of her ear, then demanded in a gravelly voice, “Spread your legs.”

She wanted to. Oh God, she wanted more of the icy-hot ecstasy his touch invoked. Even his breath on her neck caused her to shiver with pleasure. Only he made her feel like this, so wickedly alive and okay to be herself. She could put up a fight knowing she was safe with him. “No.”

“Do you want me to win, Kitten? Force you to submit to me?” He feathered the pad of his finger along her cleft, making her clit ache with need. It was all she could do not to move her hips against him. “Do you want to feel what it’s like when I wrench your control away and give your pussy what it aches for?”

Oh she did, so much that she should have been scared. Not heart-pounding thrilled. He did this to her, stripping her down to this basic and real need that sizzled between them.

“Tell me.” He pinched her nipple, hard enough to get her attention, while his finger kept that maddening caress along her folds. “I can feel your pussy saying a hot, slick and very wet fuck-me-now yes.” He fed a finger into her tender depths. “What’s your answer?”

“Yes.” The word exploded from her chest. It was all she could do not to bear down on his finger, ride him. Her lower belly twitched, trying to make her clench around him.

He opened his hot mouth over her neck, licking and nipping while slowly sliding his finger in and out. Not enough. It built her frustration to boiling. He moved his mouth back to her ear. “One more time, spread your legs and I’ll go easy on you.”

Never. She didn’t want easy, she wanted to push Sloane like he pushed her. Kat stretched her body up, off his penetrating finger. Ignoring the twinge in her leg, she lunged forward, slapping her hands to the mat.

Before she could get away, Sloane was on her, his thighs clamping around her hips. Still on her knees, he forced her down to her elbows, his body covering her back.

His thick erection throbbed against her bottom.

He chuckled, the rich sound rolling over her nerve endings. With one hand holding her wrists pinned, he drew the long strip of tape from around his neck.

Kat widened her eyes. That’s what the tape was for. She tried to buck, tried to free herself, but he held her immobilized beneath him. She watched in fascinated excitement as he looped the tape around her wrists, binding her. “No tapping out, baker girl. You’re trapped where I want you. How I want you. Staying down on your forearms will keep the pressure off your knee.” He moved back and dragged her pants off.

Leaving her kneeling with her ass in the air and spread open. The cool air hit her overheated folds, making her achingly aware that she was exposed, vulnerable. But he was right, there was very little pressure on her knee.

Then he came down over her, his hot skin searing hers, melting her uncertainty, leaving that yawing need to be filled by him. Sloane put his mouth against her ear. “Do you want me to keep going? Force you to take my cock?” He skimmed his lips over her neck, his finger toying with her nipples. “Do you want me to fuck you so hard, you’ll scream when you come?”

The tingles raced and danced, causing her to squirm. Tears prickled at her eyes from the raging desperation building inside her. She no longer needed the ability to tap out, not when she was with him—the man she loved and trusted. “Sloane.”

“Say it. Say you’ll submit.”

Heat blasted from him, his voice rough with need. If she said it, the last of his control would snap. Everything in her tightened with anticipation as he took one hand away—the hand that he used to guide his cock into her.

If she said yes.

Only then.

Kat had thought she wanted him to take her power and control, but this was so much sexier. Willingly letting him tie her, strip her, spread her open for his pleasure. So hot she nearly sobbed her answer. “I submit. Only to you. Ever.”

The music built to a throbbing beat as Sloane surged his cock into her, stretching and filling her. The delicious burn lit her nerves on fire. Kat rocked back, taking him, taking everything.

Sloane reared up, his hands clamping around her hips, jerking her up and back against his thrust. His cock hit so deep she cried out. Pain? Pleasure? Didn’t know, her sensors were confused. She just needed it. Had to have that intense sensation once more. Her hands were tied, but she clawed the mat. “Again.”

“Fuck.” It came out a tortured groan as he did it again. Pounding into her, gliding past her nerves then hitting that sensory overload time and again, driving her so high she couldn’t quite let go.

“Sloane. Please.” Shudders wracked her. His cock swelled, throbbed. Every breath teased her mercilessly. Her clit pulsed. Everything in her clenched too hard.

Sloane eased her back to her knees, thrusting deep. Taking hold of her ponytail, he turned her head, kissing along her cheek. “I’ve got you.” Brushing two fingers over her lips, he said, “Suck. Get them wet for me.”

She opened her mouth, taking in his fingers, sucking on them, tasting his skin and herself. Greedy for more of him, of them, she curled her tongue around his digits.

“Jesus, Kitten, what you do to me.” It came out a low growl that vibrated against her back. He pulled his fingers out then slid them down her belly to tease her clit.