Page 48 of Heroes & Hitmen (Windy City Wolfpack #1)
I grab onto his neck, fingers digging into his flesh to keep myself from sinking to the floor, and he captures my mouth in a kiss that’s more collision than contact– wild and messy, both too much and not nearly enough.
His hands are everywhere– running up the back of my dress, skating over my ribs, squeezing my ass so hard I gasp.
He lifts me up like I weigh nothing, carrying me into the bedroom and tossing me onto the mattress with a controlled force that makes the bedframe creak.
I scramble up onto my elbows, hair tumbling loose from its pins and falling around my face.
Ares stands at the foot of the bed, eyes dark, chest heaving with barely leashed restraint.
He shrugs off his navy suit jacket and yanks the bowtie free, the movement almost violent. His shirt comes off next– button by button, slow and deliberate, his gaze locked on mine.
“Take off the dress,” he murmurs.
I arch a brow. “Bossy.”
He drops his shirt to the floor, and the sight of his bare, muscular chest steals the rest of my oxygen.
“Now, sweetheart,” he commands, tipping his head. “Or I’ll rip it off you.”
The feral look in his eyes says it’s not an empty threat.
I reach behind my back, fingers fumbling to pull the zipper down. The silky straps slide off my shoulders, the top half of the dress pooling around my hips. A bra didn’t work with the gown, and Ares’ gaze turns molten at the sight of my bare breasts.
“Fuck, Miley,” he growls, voice rough. His gaze scrapes over every inch of my skin, and it’s not just desire I see in his eyes– it’s reverence. Like I’ve ruined him. “You trying to kill me?”
“Maybe,” I reply on a shaky breath.
He kicks off his pants and boxers, climbing onto the bed with the controlled precision of a predator.
Every muscle in my body tenses with anticipation as he guides me to lie back and tugs my dress the rest of the way off.
Then his hands slide up my thighs, fingers hooking in the waistband of my panties and easing them down my legs.
He tosses them over his shoulder with a wolfish grin before spreading my thighs and settling between them, mouth hot on my inner thigh.
“Ares,” I pant, back arching, fingers sinking into his hair.
He teases me for what feels like forever, nipping and licking my inner thighs, working me up until I’m shaking with need.
When he finally slides his tongue over my clit, I cry out, fingers tightening in his hair to anchor myself.
He works me with ruthless precision, bringing me right to the edge over and over until I’m writhing, half crying, too lost to even be embarrassed by the noises I’m making.
His hands grip my hips, anchoring me to the bed as if I’d have any chance of escaping him.
With each sweep of his tongue, my vision goes a little more white at the edges until I’m tumbling over the edge of bliss.
I gasp and moan, riding every wave, letting myself be ruined by this man because it’s the only thing left to do.
This may have started as a lie, but I’m so thoroughly his at this point that I barely remember who I was before Ares Raines crashed into my life.
My eyes flutter open to meet his, a proud smile curving his glistening lips.
I’m boneless, strung out, desperate for something I can’t name.
I reach for him, trying to distract my mind from the onslaught of emotions by hauling him up for a kiss, but he hesitates, brow furrowing as he studies my face.
“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand.
Dammit, he can always see right through me, and his question cracks me wide open.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, shaking my head. And then, “Everything.” My voice comes out too hoarse, too broken. “I just… leaving… I can’t…”
He’s on me in an instant, crowding into my space with his chest pressed against mine and his hands bracketing my face. “You can ,” he says firmly, dark eyes burning with intensity. “And you will .”
My hands tremble as I press my palms to his chest. “You don’t understand,” I whisper. “I’m scared, Ares.”
His expression softens, thumb tracing my cheekbone. “Of what?”
“That I’ll screw it up somehow,” I blurt. “That I’ll get you killed. That… fuck, I don’t know, that maybe this is all a huge mistake that’s only gonna make things worse. ”
He dips his forehead to mine. “Get out of your own head. I’ll be fine, and you’ve got this, baby.”
He makes it sound so simple, but it’s not – nothing about this situation is straightforward, and there are a million ways it could all go wrong.
“You will get out of Chicago,” he says, his tone both achingly gentle and so firm that it leaves no room for argument. “Say it.”
I want to resist– to hold onto this last, battered shred of control– but there’s something in his voice that makes me fold like a house of cards. He may be a cocky idiot, but he’s my idiot, dammit.
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I’ll get out,” I whisper.
His lips spread into a roguish grin. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against mine in a whisper of affection that only makes everything worse.
There are a million things I want to say to him– don’t let me go, come with me, just one more night – but all I can manage is to press my lips tighter against his, as if one more kiss might save my soul. It’s clumsy and desperate, more teeth than grace, but he answers it with everything he has.
He stretches my arms over my head without breaking the kiss, pinning them with one hand as he uses the other to guide the broad head of his cock to my opening. He enters me so slowly that I feel every inch of him, the delicious stretch stealing the air from my lungs until he’s buried to the hilt.
From the first thrust, I can tell this is different.
It’s not the furious, frantic fucking we usually do–every movement is deliberate, a steady grind that borders on torture.
He breaks the kiss to gaze into my eyes, his body molding to mine as he holds my stare, the intimacy of it all making my head spin.
“Even when you’re a thousand miles away, you’ll still be mine,” he growls with a harsh punch of his hips, burying himself so deep I cry out at the fullness while his words hit me right in the chest.
“Possessive asshole,” I choke, but it comes out soaked in affection.
“You love it.”
My heart stutters, then starts up again twice as fast. I do.
The way he fucks me is both reverent and relentless, his hands tangled in my hair, teeth grazing my collarbone, hips rocking into me with a rhythm that’s more like a plea than a demand.
I lose track of time, lose track of myself.
There’s nothing but the weight of his body, the heat of his skin, the way his mouth keeps finding mine in the dark.
When I finally come, it’s like a shockwave ripping through my body, my back arching off the bed. I choke on his name, the word breaking apart on my tongue. He grinds into me, drawing it out, then pulls out and paints my inner thighs with his own release.
The full moon’s tomorrow, which means I’m likely ovulating. Better safe than sorry.
We collapse in a tangle of limbs and sheets. I press my face into his shoulder, sucking in huge, desperate breaths, trying to keep it together as his scent overwhelms me.
Ares cleans his mess off my skin, then rolls us onto our sides, wrapping himself around me like a shield.
For a long time, neither of us says anything, the room quiet save for the sound of our labored breathing and the faint hum of the city outside the bedroom window.
My eyes burn, but I don’t let the tears fall. Not yet.
Eventually, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and whispers, “Hey.”
I crane my neck, turning my head to meet his eyes.
He studies me for a long moment, then smiles, soft and sad. “You know I wouldn’t change a thing, right?”
I close my eyes so a tear doesn’t escape, nodding. “Yeah. I wouldn’t either.”
He kisses my forehead, then my nose, then the corner of my mouth. “Good.”
We drift off in each other’s arms, not quite asleep, but far enough gone that the rest of the world can’t find us. Tomorrow, I’ll put on my mask and do what I have to do. I’ll run, and I won’t look back.
But tonight, I’ll give myself this one last thing. I’ll let him hold me, let him make me feel safe, and let myself love him, knowing I’ll pay for it later.