Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
I rolled my eyes, trying to brush off his amusement as well as unwelcome warmth flooding me. “What do you want, Piston?”
He leaned in, his bulk feeling like wall even with door somewhat between us. “Let me in. We need to talk.” His words were serious, but he still had amused expression on his face I didn’t like. Not since Victor had sent me off to start my training had anyone been amused by me. When I stared at someone like I was looking at Piston now, only feelings they had were fear. Terror even. Not Piston. He looked like he knew exactly what he was in for and relished the challenge.
With exasperated sigh, I stepped back to let him in. Partly because I knew he wouldn’t leave until he’d said his piece, and partly because I was secretly relieved to delay the solitude that would force me to confront my conflicted feelings about him. And the pressing need to find Victor again.
Room felt smaller with Piston inside. His presence was too large, too intense. He looked around, probably noting Spartan furnishings with raised eyebrow, but said nothing about it. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against closed door casually. When he said nothing, only stared at me, I had to stifle urge to squirm under his gaze.
“Well?” I frowned, trying to read him. Might as well have tried to decipher hieroglyphics for all good it did me. There was amusement on his face but also that hungry look in his eyes. How long had it been since man had looked at me in sexual way? Had anyone ever? I was adept at reading people. Came with territory. Intent was everything in my world. If I didn’t read someone’s underlying intent, it could get me killed. With Piston, all I saw was hard lust. Like he wanted nothing more than to strip me bare and lick my body from head to toe.
“Well, indeed,” he muttered, wiping his hand over his mouth.
“Byad!” I took in deep breath, looking to heavens for patience. If I believed in God, I’d definitely pray for the stuff. In abundance. Or just the will to actually kill big fucker. “I don’t need this.” I had to turn away from him, which normally I’d never do. If I hadn’t, he’d have seen how much that fucking look affected me. Because it had. More than any sexual encounter in my life, this man affected me. With only a look.
I chanced glance in his direction in time to see him move from door and cross scant distance between us. He took my arm and turned me back to face him. His grip was firm but not harsh. Once I faced him, he did the same with my other shoulder. My leather vest was sleeveless so his warm, calloused hands on my bare skin was unexpected thrill. There was no way to stop soft gasp from escaping my lips.
For long moments we stood like that. Piston stared down into my upturned face. His jaw worked, bunching at the sides like he was angry. At me? Not that I cared. Or maybe, he was just as turned-on as I was getting and fighting it just as hard as I was.
The next thing I realized, my hands were on his chest, my fingers curling against his T-shirt-covered skin. Muscles played, giving me delicious hint at what lay under the thin cotton, and I wanted to dig in and hold him to me. My nails, which I kept razor-sharp, had to be poking against his skin. Wouldn’t surprise me if I’d left little pricks of blood in my wake.
“Fuck,” he muttered. Then he was kissing me.
I stiffened, unsure if I wanted intimate contact or not. I should push him away. Should drive my nails into his belly and eviscerate him. As soon as I got my fill of his delicious kiss…
His lips, warm and insistent, melted resolve I had thought fortified by steel and shadow. I kissed him back with ferocity that surprised even me, my hands moving from his chest up to tangle in his hair. If I scratched him accidentally, he didn’t seem to notice. Every fiber of my being screamed that this was wrong, yet it felt terrifyingly right.
Piston’s hands moved with possessive urgency, tracing line of my spine before pulling me closer. His touch sparked wildfire threatening to consume everything I’d built around myself. My defenses, my missions, my very identity negated relationships. Yet hadn’t I just been thinking how I’d managed to build relationships with people over years?
Yes. I should kill him. And I would. Just as soon as this unbearable tension eased. Just as soon as I figured out how to breathe again without his scent filling my lungs.
And that kiss, it wasn’t gentle or tentative. It was all-encompassing, fervent, as if he was trying to meld our souls into one. His lips moved against mine with desperate intensity that left no room for doubt. This wasn’t just lust. It was something fiercer, something that didn’t care about deadly secrets we both carried or the scars we’d hidden under our clothes and bravado. And I knew Piston had as many secrets as I did.