First Debt (Indebted #2)(38)

But…he didn’t.

Tracing one hand from my wrist, along the inside of my arm, and right to my throat, he fisted my ponytail. With intensity that stripped my soul to the very essence of who I was, he pulled my head back slowly, sensually, full of sexual power.

His eyes dropped to my mouth. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Ms. Weaver.”

I panted, my neck straining against his hold, but I made no move to break the poignant awareness.

“You won that night, but I lied when I said it pissed me off.” His mouth dropped, his tongue licked my bottom lip with the barest of grazes. “I’ve never enjoyed coming in someone’s mouth as much as I did in yours.” He licked me again, quaking my frame. “In fact, I would willingly let you win again, if I received the same ball-shattering release.”

My lips begged to connect with his. This single-minded lust between us was sacred. The only place where we were both equal, and heritage had no authority. I’d made a promise to use sex against him, but now I added to my promise.

I will use him to make me stronger, better—invincible.

I wanted to become a woman whose arsenal included lust and sensuality, regardless of my slight frame and inexperience.

“Kiss me,” I murmured, tugging my hair gently in his hold.

Jethro shook his head, his fingers tightening around my ponytail. Tracing the tip of his tongue once more on my bottom lip, he whispered, “I don’t kiss my enemies.”

My heart became an inferno, sending flames blazing with every beat. “You just f*ck them?”

His mouth twitched into a roguish smile. “Only if they beg.”

His body pressed against mine, his thigh going purposely between my legs.

My eyes snapped closed as he rocked against my throbbing clit. “Would you beg, Ms. Weaver? How hot and frustrated do I have to make you before you’ll beg me to drive my cock inside you?”

My brain spasmed at the thought. The answer? Not long. I would beg right now if it meant he would forget about the debt and take me back to his room. I wanted to see where he slept. I wanted to infiltrate the home ground of my opponent and undermine him right at the source.

“You’re all talk. You won’t even kiss me, let alone f*ck me.”

Jethro yanked my head back. Pain shot down my spine. “How wrong you are, Ms. Weaver.” Then a vindictive smile replaced the black desire. “Very clever, though, I must admit.”

I blinked, trying to dispel the fog of lust and keep up with him. “Why?”

His thigh slid out from between my legs; his fingers untwined from my hair. “Very clever to make me focus on other things than the true reason of why we’re here.” Stepping back and sucking in a deep breath, he dragged a hand through his hair. “You keep on surprising me, and I keep on despising what you show me.”

I laughed tightly. “Doesn’t look like you despise me.” I cocked my chin at the straining erection in his trousers. “I think you like me, and despite what you’re going to do and who you are, I still find you attractive.”

And believe me, if I had a cure for that insanity, I’d take it without hesitation.

Cruelly, he snatched my free wrist, wrapping the remaining cuff tightly. Quickly securing the buckle, he muttered, “The way you threw yourself into my brother’s arms hints you might have a desire for all Hawks.” His breath was hot in my ear as he spun me to face the post. “You’re just a conniving manipulator.”

I cried out as he disappeared behind the post and hoisted my arms high with the aid of a hidden winch. Another jerk and my wrists burned in the supple leather. My torso smashed against the damp wood as my body weight transferred from my toes to my arms.

“How does that feel?” Jethro asked, coming back around.

My shoulders screamed; my blood throbbed with effort to reach my raised fingertips. I dangled with no chance at escape.

How does it feel?

It f*cking hurt! It made my previous thoughts of lust seem ridiculous.

All concepts of seducing him disappeared. I only wanted this over fast, so I could admit defeat and lick my wounds in private.

“I asked you a question,” Jethro growled, his hand stroking my spine.

I flinched at his touch. It was sacrilegious, because even now it still made my core clench with want. “It hurts. Is that what you want to hear?”

Jethro’s torso pressed against my back, squashing my cheek against the damp wood of the post. The crispness of plants and the musky scent of earth overpowered his smell, giving me a welcome reprieve from the man who drove me mad.

“You look rather tempting like this, Ms. Weaver. Perhaps it will be me begging before this is done.”

I couldn’t stop my skin shivering with awareness or my heart seizing with anxiety and desire.

“Don’t touch me,” I hissed.

With a small laugh, he pushed away, ceasing contact.

I twisted my neck, never letting him from my sight. I hated having him so close. I hated that I had no power to stop him. I hated how he stood there, wrapped in silence, watching me like some mystery he had yet to solve.

We didn’t speak, waiting to see who would break first.

Finally, after a minute, he said softly, “I’m going to give you a history lesson, Ms. Weaver. You’ll listen closely and understand why you’re repaying this certain debt.” Pacing, he added, “Every debt will begin this way. The history will be told, then the debt repaid. You’ll be informed of what your ancestors did to mine. You will apologise and repent for their past sins, and only then will the extraction take place.”