Page 33 of Heroes & Hitmen (Windy City Wolfpack #1)

I roll my eyes as I twist around to face him, but it’s mostly for show.

There’s no way he can’t hear how hard my heart is hammering against my ribcage, my lungs suddenly unable to draw enough air in to breathe properly.

I couldn’t pretend I’m not on board with this even if I tried, and right now I don’t have any desire to self-sabotage .

There’s only one thing I want in this moment, and he’s standing right in front of me.

“You’re relentless,” I mutter, trying for exasperated but only managing to land somewhere between breathless and desperate.

He bends his head so his lips hover just above my ear, voice pitched in a low growl. “You love it.”

God help me, I might.

Not that I’ll give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

Instead, I duck beneath his arm and dart off down the hall toward the bedroom, as if I have any real intention of escaping him.

I cast a glance over my shoulder, more reflex than strategy, and of course he’s there.

Following. Stalking. The gleam in his eyes is pure predator, and I’m not fooling myself about how much I like being hunted by him.

The bedroom is awash in the soft glow of the city lights filtering in through the massive window, the skyline glittering like a promise I’ve never trusted.

I cross the room toward the closet, pausing at the door and glancing back just in time to catch Ares enter the room.

He whips his shirt off over his head in one smooth motion, muscles flexing, and the sight of him– bare chested, copper hair perfectly mussed, eyes locked on me with feral intent– is enough to send my already fraying self-control up in flames.

“Need to grab some pillows for the couch?” I ask dryly, chin lifted in false bravado.

He grins, slow and wicked. “Not unless you’re sleeping there with me.”

I snort a laugh, but before I can come up with a witty retort, he’s crossing the room and pressing me back against the closet doorframe, body solid and unyielding against mine.

My breath catches as his mouth finds my neck, teeth dragging across the sensitive skin as a hungry growl rumbles in his chest.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he murmurs against my skin, tongue skimming over my pulse point.

I shove at his chest halfheartedly, back arching off the doorframe. “I need to change.”

He tilts his head, lips grazing my jaw. “Go ahead,” he hums. “I’ll wait.”

Ares steps back just enough to allow me to slip past him, folding his arms over his chest impatiently.

His eyes rake over my figure as I close the door between us for privacy, like he hasn’t seen it all before.

My heart continues to pound while I quickly strip down to nothing, then pull on a silk negligee.

It’s midnight blue, barely covers my ass, and skims my curves in a way that makes me feel like someone far bolder than I am.

Someone who knows what they want and isn’t afraid to go for it.

Slipping the ribbon from my hair, I shake out my tresses, glancing to the mirror mounted on the back of the closet door.

My chest is flushed, eyes too bright. I look like a girl about to dive headfirst into the one thing she swore she wouldn’t let herself want, but I’m too far gone to turn back now.

When I pull the door open and step back into the bedroom, Ares is waiting at the foot of the bed in nothing but a pair of tight black boxer briefs, the outline of his hard cock beneath the fabric leaving nothing to the imagination.

My brain short-circuits at the sight of him, heart tripping over its valves.

He’s all sharp lines and firm muscle, ink curling over his ribs and etched onto his right pec. His eyes rake over me slowly, gaze turning molten as his jaw flexes.

“You wear that just to torture me?” he asks, voice rough.

“Please,” I scoff, lifting my chin. “You’ve been staring at me like I’m your last meal since we sat down at dinner tonight.”

“That’s because you look edible,” he replies, wetting his lips with his tongue as he undresses me with his eyes. “You gonna let me eat you up?”

God, the things this man says.

“Come here, babe,” he growls, inclining his chin.

I should probably run in the opposite direction, but I swear my feet move on their own accord, bringing me closer to danger. Ares’ hand darts out to snatch mine the second I’m within reach, yanking me down onto the bed with him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmurs, hands latching around my waist.

I open my mouth to argue, but his lips crash onto mine, heat blooming so fast my head spins. I lose myself in the taste of him, the sweet afterburn of whiskey on his tongue as he kisses me hard. It’s fierce and claiming, deepening until I’m clutching at his shoulders to keep myself upright.

Somehow, I manage to pull away, gasping for air as I press a palm to the center of his chest and force him back. “I didn’t invite you to sleep in the bed,” I say, giving him a pointed look .

The corner of his mouth kicks up in a smirk. “You did last night.”

“That was a one-time thing,” I lie.

Ares just grins back at me, all teeth and devious intent. “Nice try. That’s my spot now, babe. Better get used to it.”

I try to roll my eyes, but his lips capture mine again and I’m a freaking goner .

He kisses me like he’s starved for it, hands sliding down to palm my ass, lifting me up.

In one fluid motion, he twists and tosses me onto the center of the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress as he climbs over me.

The hem of my negligee rides up, exposing my bare mound, and Ares makes a low, feral sound in the back of his throat.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to my jaw, my throat, my collarbone. His hands slip under the silk, stroking up my ribs, and I arch into his touch, wanting more.

He peels the negligee off me slowly, savoring the reveal like he’s unwrapping a present. I curl up to let him slip it over my head, leaving me completely bare. He tosses the silky garment aside and pauses, looking over me with a reverence that makes my breath catch in my throat.

“Look at you,” he says, voice rough with awe. “You’re perfect , Miley.”

I snort a laugh, covering my face with my hands. “Shut up.”

Ares catches my wrists, lifting my hands away from my face and pinning them to the mattress above my head. “No,” he growls as he leans in, pupils blown wide. “You are.”

His mouth descends on mine again before I can argue, then he kisses his way down my jaw, my neck, pausing to suck at the spot where my pulse pounds the hardest. I pant and squirm as his lips trail lower, following the line of my collarbone to the hollow of my throat.

Every nerve in my body is strung tight, anticipation humming through my veins.

He licks a path between the valley of my breasts, my back arching as the heat of his mouth closes over a nipple.

“Ares,” I pant, my fingers sinking into his hair as he rolls the hardened peak between his teeth. It’s a plea, a prayer, and he answers it by continuing to work his way down my body.

He takes his time, kissing and biting down my stomach, pausing at my navel, then traveling lower still. His hands grip my thighs, spread them wide, and he settles between my legs like he’s making himself at home.

I can feel how wet I am, the tang of my arousal permeating the air. I want to squirm, to grind against his face, but I force myself to stay still as his eyes dart up to meet mine.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps, his warm breath washing over my center like a caress.

“Please,” I whisper, my fingers tightening in his hair, directing his mouth where I need it most.

His lips spread into a feral grin, then he dips his head and licks a slow, deliberate stripe up my pussy. I gasp, hips bucking as his mouth seals over me, warm and wet and… oh, god .

The pressure is instant and relentless, his tongue and lips and teeth working in tandem to drive me to ruin.

Ares licks and sucks, alternating between soft teasing and punishing intensity.

My hands fist the sheets at either side of my hips, ragged breaths sawing from my lungs as pleasure unfurls from my core.

“So wet for me already,” he murmurs, tongue tracing circles around my clit. “You taste so fucking good. Could stay down here forever.”

“ Fuck ,” I breathe, hips bucking wildly. It’s so intense that I try to wriggle away on instinct, but he just pins me in place, hands locking around my thighs.

“Don’t run from me, sweetheart,” he growls. “You were made for me. You can take it.”

Holy hell .

My whole body flushes, a hot wave of euphoria crashing over me. The words, the praise, it’s almost as good as the sensation itself. I never thought of myself as someone who needed to be told, but the way he says it– the raw, honest need in his voice– makes me desperate for more.

He dives back in, not letting up or slowing down.

My composure evaporates, replaced by pure, raw, sensation.

I feel myself getting dangerously close to the edge and I try to hide it, biting my lip so hard I taste blood, but he knows .

Of course he does. He slides two fingers into me, curling them just so, and I arch off the bed, a ragged moan escaping before I can stop it.

He keeps at it, alternating between slow, teasing licks and frantic, hungry sucks. Every time I get close, he pulls back, drawing it out, making me beg for it .

“Ares,” I whimper, grinding against his face shamelessly. “Please…”

He pulls back just enough to speak, lips shining. “You’re so fucking pretty when you beg, Miley. You know that?”

I shake my head, too far gone to form words.

He grins, then dives in again to resume his torture, fingers and tongue working together until I’m right at the edge. He holds me there, teetering, until my whole body starts to shake.

“Let go, baby,” he urges, voice dark and commanding. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

That does it. I detonate, white-hot pleasure coursing through my body, thighs clamping around his head. I cry out, loud and shameless, while Ares keeps right on going, licking me through the aftershocks and only relenting when I whimper and shove at his head.

He crawls up my body, trailing kisses along my skin until he’s hovering over me. Then he grins, smug and beautiful and so obviously pleased with himself that I want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

“You’re an asshole,” I pant, still struggling to catch my breath.

He laughs, low and rough. “But you like it.”

I do. I really, really do.

He rocks back on his heels, shedding his boxers in one smooth motion. My eyes dart down, then away, then back again, unable to help myself. He’s freaking huge , and the sight of him hard and ready makes me ache all over.

“Still think I’m wrong about your kink?” he teases as he wraps a hand around his girth and gives it a few lazy strokes, spreading my legs wide and lining up between them.

I glare back at him, refusing to admit what we both know as he drags the tip of his cock through my wetness. Rather than pushing inside, he leans down to kiss me again, sweet and gentle, as if he’s thanking me for letting him have this.

“Tell me,” he rasps against my lips.

I hesitate for half a second, pride warring with need. But in the end, need wins.

“I want you, Ares,” I whisper.

He pulls back with a triumphant grin, gathering my hair into his fist, eyes locking with mine.

The man stares right into my damn soul as he pushes inside with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, stealing my breath.

I feel every inch of him as he fills me up, the stretch both painful and perfect as his hips meet mine.

“ Fuck ,” he chokes, pulling out halfway and slamming home again. “You’re so goddamn tight, babe.”

A wanton moan escapes me as I clutch at his shoulders, hips rising up to meet his thrusts as he sets a rhythm.

It’s steady at first, but quickly turns wild as we both lose ourselves to the sensation.

Ares keeps up the running commentary, praising every reaction, every gasp, every clench of my muscles around him.

He fucks me hard and deep, telling me how good I feel, how perfect I am, how he’s never wanted anyone as badly as he wants me.

Every word goes straight to my core, making me even wetter, even needier. Suddenly I’m desperate to hear what he’ll say next, dangling from the precipice of disaster.

“You take me so well,” he pants, thrusts growing more frantic. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

I try to fight it, try to stay silent, but the pleasure is too much.

“Yes,” I gasp, and the look on his face– pure joy, pure pride– is enough to push me over the edge again.

I come so hard I see stars, clenching around him as I ride out wave after wave of bliss. Ares follows a second later, burying himself to the hilt and groaning my name into the crook of my neck.

We collapse in a sweaty, tangled heap, both of us too wrecked to move. For a few minutes, all I can do is lie there catching my breath, letting the aftershocks roll through my body.

Eventually, I muster the energy to roll over, limbs heavy and useless, like I’ve just run a marathon. I find Ares already watching me, propped up on an elbow, hair a tousled mess and a devilish grin on his lips.

“Told you,” he says smugly.

I flip him off with a limp hand, but my mouth betrays me with a smile.

“Admit it,” he goads, brushing the sweaty hair off my forehead with one hand and tickling my ribs with the other.

I giggle and try to squirm away, but his arm locks around my waist, dragging my body against his and holding me at his mercy.

“Okay, okay!” I gasp between helpless giggles, collapsing against him as he finally relents.

He dips his chin to look down at me, arching a brow.

I bite my lip, cheeks still flushed. “Maybe I’ve got a kink,” I mumble.

He beams another grin and my stomach flips. Dammit.

I give him a playful shove and flop back down, Ares immediately pulling me over to lay half on top of him.

We stay like that for a while, tangled in silence, the city lights flickering across the ceiling above us.

His hand finds mine, fingers brushing over my knuckles, and it hits me how good this feels. How dangerous that is.

I’m not supposed to be doing this. I’m not supposed to feel like this.

But wrapped up in him, sated and warm and stupidly happy, it’s hard to remember why I ever tried to resist.