Page 27 of Killer Confections (Syndicate Killers #1)

His head whips up, eyes sparkling with lust and excitement as I bend over, giving him a front-row seat to my ass, and collecting my dumbbells from the ground.

There’s a low groan from the window and I smirk, going through my sets as if he doesn’t exist. My body is acutely aware of his presence outside, my skin feeling tight and my nipples are hard against my sports bra.

I lose count multiple times, just going through the motions as low-lidded eyes watch me. At one point, he lights a cigarette, lifting his mask to take a long drag.

That shouldn’t be as sexy as it is.

I falter again, forgetting what exercise I was on and replacing it with another to make it seem like I didn’t just forget what I was doing because I was so caught up in the hot- as-sin man on the other side of the glass.

“Those are bad for you,” I say, loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough for the other occupants to eavesdrop.

Atlas’s eyes crease in the mirror as he takes another long drag. Then, he winks before flicking the half-smoked cigarette onto the pavement and stepping on it.

Hmm, complain enough and he’ll stop. Good to know.

“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for smoking in my apartment either,” I add, re-racking my weights.

He gives me a challenging look in the mirror, a silent, ‘And what are you going to do about it?,’ in his gaze.

Before I can give him a piece of my mind, the kid from the front desk moves across the room towards me. “We’re closing.” He mumbles as he passes, heading for the cleaning supplies by the ellipticals.

My eyes dart to Atlas and he rolls his shoulders, looking smug as his sight narrows on me.

Shit .

After all of my teasing, I hadn’t thought about the repercussions. I assumed he would have left a while ago, but I lost track of time. And he was still here.

Waiting.

I grab my sweatshirt, fumbling to get it on as I grab my bag. Gym Bro nearly runs into me, giving me a grunted apology as he shoulders the door and heads out into the night.

Atlas watches him, something sinister playing across his features before he turns to me. “Done playing temptress?”

I swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head as stalks towards me. My whole body coils, the anticipation of his touch making me feel taught and… hot.

He reaches out, his fingers skimming my clothed collarbone and sending a shudder through me before he takes my bag off my shoulder and switches it to his. He places a hand on my lower back and I feel like I could melt into a puddle right here on the sidewalk.

“Let’s get you home and see how confident you feel in all of that fucking teasing,” he growls low, his breath fanning my ear, and I have to stop my eyes from fluttering.

The smell of smoke and something minty and familiar washes over me.

I glare up at him. “You used my body wash?”

His eyes crease. “Our body wash, baby. I fucking love smelling like you.” He gives me a quick peck on the cheek before guiding me down the sidewalk toward my apartment.

Okay, that’s kinda cute…

Crazy. But cute.

Our walk is quiet as we trek the two blocks to my building.

Atlas is almost flush against my side, his heat blanketing me and making my brain stupid from his proximity.

Hell, any closer and he would wear my skin.

You would think our height difference would make things awkward, but as he walks beside me, our position feels so normal and comfortable it makes a dull ache pang in my chest.

I’ve missed this.

I’ve missed him.

He opens the building’s door for me, allowing me to slip past before he’s back at my side, hitting the elevator’s button.

“So,” I start, rocking back on my heels, “what are we going to do?”

He chuckles, the deep sound shooting straight to my core. “We’re getting some food in you first, then we can discuss your punishment.”

My head whips around, “Punishment? I didn’t—”

“You made me watch you shake that beautiful ass while you were glistening with sweat. I’ve been hard as fuck since you took your sweater off, baby.” He guides me into the elevator before jamming a finger on the button. “I’m getting my fill and you’re gonna be shaking by the time I’m done with you.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a punishment to me,” I huff, looking around the elevator until my gaze settles on him. Glacier eyes stare back at me, something desperate and deprived swirling in them.

He leans in close and my breath hitches. “It almost sounds like you want to be punished. Do you enjoy having my hand prints marking your ass? You like the reminder that I’ve been there?”

Christ on a cracker.

As if coming to life from his words, the muted ache from the bruises returns. I haven’t been able to sit down without a reminder of the last punishment. The two sizable handprints blistering my skin are a light purple, his thick fingers almost perfectly outlined on my pale flesh.

I’ve never been aroused by spanking. Truth be told, I always felt it was a little cringe when I read it in novels, but after experiencing the mixed pleasure and pain Atlas could bring me, it had me seeing the act in a whole new light.

And if the slickness between my thighs is any indication, my body is feeling the shift as well.

“Maybe,” I breathe, my face feeling flushed.

He hums, lifting a finger to my cheek as he strokes the blushing mound. “You need a break from my palm, baby, but as soon as it heals, I’ll give you some fresh ones. I was thinking of something a little different tonight.”

He speaks gently to me, turning my insides to putty.

I’ve never needed anyone to take care of me.

My parents made sure I was self-sufficient and headstrong, but the way Atlas is treating me feels an awful lot like being cared for.

It’s so sweet and I just want to give that power to him because I know he would never hurt me.

My heart knows his intentions, but my mind is still catching up. Neither of us have put his identity out in the open and I still get that nagging thought of him not being who I think he is.

I would be crushed.

Which is why I haven’t said anything. I want to live in this fantasy a little longer.

I turn into his hand, closing my eyes and soaking in the warmth his palm provides before nipping at his thumb.

“Mmm,” he groans as the elevator opens. He guides me to my door and I don’t even stop him from entering the code. My brows go up when I watch him put in a different one and the system gives a positive ding, disarming it.

He mimics my look, “Pretend you didn’t see that.”

I snort before pushing him past the threshold and moving to the kitchen. “I need to shower, but help yourself to dinner.”

He peers down at the spread I made before I left, nodding. “I can’t say no to that, but I can say no to you showering.”

I blink at him, “What? Why can’t I shower?”

His eyes shift to me. “I want my dessert just the way it is.”

I balk, gasping. “Oh, my god. No! I’m not doing that. That’s gross and I’m sweaty.”

He lifts a brow. “I’m not asking, baby. I’m telling you that you’re gonna sit your fine ass down at the table, I’m gonna make our plates, then, when you’re done, you’re gonna peel off that second skin and sit on my face.”

My whole body flushes. The air sucked straight from my lungs at his lewd declaration.

He doesn’t comment on my shocked expression as he turns me toward the dining room and gives my ass a smack.

I hiss at the sting, shooting a scowl over my shoulder before walking to the table and gently lowering myself onto the chair.

Atlas moves around my kitchen, pulling another plate down as he dishes the leftovers for himself and puts mine in the microwave.

I’m entranced by him, my eyes following every movement he makes.

His thick jacket hides his build, but it isn’t hard to imagine what I would find under the material.

Solid muscles inked in a story I have yet to hear, bunching and flexing as he moves easily around my small kitchen like he’s been in it before.

Probably because he has.

My mouth waters at the image I’ve conjured, feeling a hunger that transcends the cramping in my stomach. I shift in my chair, my thighs rubbing and the dull ache in my ass making it hard to rest on either side without the reminder of what Atlas has done to me.

A thought strikes me.

He’s seen every inch of me.

Everything.

And I have yet to see him naked.

“Why don’t you take your clothes off?” The question slips from me before I can stop it.

He looks at me over his shoulder, brows raised. “You tryna get a look at the goods?”

I give a breathless laugh, shaking my head. “It just seems a little unfair. You’ve seen all of me—”

“Damn right. Fucking beautiful.”

“—and I have yet to see you.” I finish.

He nods. “Truth be told, I was waiting for you to figure out who I am. Once you can say my name with confidence, then you can see and touch whatever you want, baby. I’m yours. Have been for a long time.”

Was I melting before? Because now I’m a damn puddle. He’s really considered himself mine all these years…

My chest warms as my gut swarms. That fluttering sensation is back in full force, making my skin tingle. “You haven’t even kissed me yet…”

He stops moving, dropping what’s in his hands as he stalks to the table. His hands grip the sides of my chair’s seat, turning me towards him. He squats down so we’re at eye level and my nipples harden, becoming stiffened peaks as I suck in a breath.

He lifts a hand to my face, caressing me as his other lifts his mask, revealing full lips I remember all too well.

Our first kiss has lived rent-free in my head since the day I moved.

It’s the day I internalized his promise and branded myself as his, no matter where life took me.

The countless empty relationships and time apart did nothing to deplete our strong connection.

The recognition that my heart would belong to no one else was bittersweet because I looked for him in everyone I dated.

My mom tried to convince me I would feel that again with someone else, but in me, I knew Atlas was it. He was my everything.

He leans in, his breath fanning my lips, and my eyes flutter. When he presses his mouth to mine, those sparks from long ago erupt, shooting straight to my core as I wrap my arms around his neck, tugging him closer.

He drops to his knees, returning my hunger and fervent desperation as his tongue trails the seam of my lips like they did twelve years ago.

The kiss was innocent and restrained back then, but now, our passion and desperation seeps through, turning my thoughts into nothing more than a jumbled mess as I hold on to him tightly.

His hands trail my sides, tenderly caressing me before his fingertips dig into my hips roughly. He groans, lavishing my mouth as if he’s afraid to break this spell and send us hurtling back to reality.

Then, it hits me.

Him on his knees.

The tight, gripping hands that claw at me.

The raw possession I feel dripping off of every inch of the man before me.

He isn’t just kissing me. He’s worshiping me. Claiming me as his own.

And I’m going to let him.

My heart is pounding, the heat centered in my belly becomes an inferno I can’t contain as I rock down against the chair. He hums against my mouth, the feeling of it vibrating against my tongue and making me quiver.

“Fucking greedy girl,” he purrs, pulling back as his mask falls into place. His fingers tighten around the soft flesh of my hips and he rocks me back and forth, grinding my cunt against the chair’s seat shamelessly.

I suck in a breath, knowing it isn’t enough to push me from the edge, but enjoying the slick feeling of some momentary relief. My hands shoot to his biceps, holding him tightly as I let him guide me.

“Fuck, that’s right, baby,” he rasps. “You’re so desperate you’re gonna cum from a chair?” His tone is taunting as I pant against his mouth. “Or would you prefer my tongue?”

“Your tongue,” I answer quickly and breathlessly.

A rumbling sound in his throat gives away his satisfaction with my answer before he pulls back, staring deeply into my eyes. His need is like a tangible thing, hanging in the air so thickly I swear I can feel it. “Then you better eat quickly.”

I nod, entranced by the shift around us as he stands and retrieves our plates from the kitchen. He sets mine down before pulling a chair close and sitting next to me, his knee touching mine.

Our dinner is silent, but so tense. Every time I look up, he’s already staring—watching me with the air of a starved predator.

“This is damn good, Loxley,” he comments, taking another bite of the baked chicken.

I still, my name sounding so formal on his lips. It doesn’t feel right. He never called me by my name unless he was telling me something serious. This setting is far too intimate to circle back to formalities.

“Loxley, huh?” I ask, keeping my tone light. “Isn’t there something else you want to call me?”

He chuckles, the deep baritone of it shooting straight to my clit as I shift in my seat. “What’s that, baby? You know, all you have to do is say my name.”

My anxiety flares and those what-ifs weigh down on me.

What if he isn’t who I think he is?

What if he is, but things change once I reveal who he is ?

The last one is new. Yes, I was terrified in the beginning, even if I was intrigued by the mystery man stalking me, but I’m not ready to let go if things are different. I’ve missed everything about Atlas and I feel like I finally have a slice of my past that I never felt I would get back.

“I’m not ready,” I admit quietly, staring down at my plate.

When a hand covers mine, familiarity and a warmth unlike any other calming that aching part inside of me, I look up into pale blue eyes that bleed conviction.

“I’m still me,” he says. “A little rough around the edges now, but one-hundred percent me, baby. If you still want to wait, you take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” The question slips from me before I can stop myself. I sound desperate. Needy. But I don’t care.

His eyes crease as he soaks in my features and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I promise.”