Devil's Game(28)

“What the f*ck are you doing?”

“I need to see it,” he said. “You should’ve said something earlier. I could’ve hurt you in the bar. Why the hell didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

My jaw dropped.

“It’s none of your f*cking business,” I burst out. “None of it is. And don’t try telling me you care whether or not I’m hurt.”

My breasts popped free as the corset opened. I tried to cover myself, hating the sudden, horrible feeling of vulnerability.

“You are my business,” he told me, his voice grim. He didn’t pause to perv, either. Nope, his touch was impersonal—almost clinical—as he felt around the fresh, white bandage I’d put over it earlier.

“It’s not that big,” he said, looking almost surprised.

“No shit. I told you it wasn’t a big deal. About three inches long, and not even half an inch deep.”

“They take you to the hospital?”

“They took care of me,” I snapped. “They always take care of me. That’s why—if you want to live—you need to let me go and get yourself the hell out of town.”

He laughed, sounding almost like the old Liam, and then he turned his attention toward my breasts. I slapped my hands over them, but he caught my wrists and dragged them high over my head again. I struggled but it was pointless. His strength was effortless, and while he might not be bulky with muscles, his lean body was like steel.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he said, the words low and rough. I couldn’t quite tell if he was talking to me or himself. It hit me right between my legs, though, and I felt like an idiot because not even learning he’d played me was enough to kill my desire. He leaned down, lowering his body over mine, one knee nudging roughly between my legs. I stiffened, refusing to give, and I think I could’ve pulled it off if he’d done something obvious like grope at my breasts.

Instead he dropped his head and ran his nose along the line of my collarbone upward, tickling my neck. It was such a light touch, so faint I’d have questioned whether I was imagining it if I couldn’t see him so clearly. He took in deep breaths, sighing against my ear.

“And I thought shit was f*cked up before,” he whispered. “Em, I know you won’t believe this, but I didn’t plan this. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then don’t. Let me go before things get worse.”

He shook his head slowly, lips brushing my cheek as he did it.

“I can’t, sweet girl,” he replied, and if I didn’t know he was a soulless bastard, I would’ve called that regret in his voice. “My brother’s life is at stake.”

My breath caught and for a second I thought I might cry. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want anyone in my family dead.

And I didn’t want my Liam dead, either. Intellectually I knew “my Liam” had never existed, but I could feel him and smell him all around me. My body refused to believe he’d betrayed us.

Fuck.

“Toke doesn’t care about me, so it’s not like he’s going to turn himself in to save a couple of women,” I said carefully. “And the rest of the Reapers can’t make it happen. I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know this—if my dad could find Toke, he’d be dead already. Club business aside, my father would not let a man who hurt me live. Period. Kidnapping us isn’t going to get your brother back any faster.”

Hunter kissed me, catching my mouth and sliding his tongue deep inside. Need exploded through me, curling up from my pelvis through my body like fire, and the world slowed as his hips nestled between mine, spreading me open beneath him. His big, rough hand caught my breast, his callused thumb sliding back and forth across my nipple as the kiss deepened.

Oh shit …

I’d love to say I fought valiantly to preserve my virtue, but that just wasn’t an option. I don’t even have the words to describe how much I’d wanted him earlier that night, but that was nothing compared to this. I was pumped full of adrenaline and anger and fear and so many emotions.

In an instant they all turned to lust.

My hips cradled his as he started slowly rocking into me, our jeans a barrier I suddenly hated. His thumb and tongue played me in time as a slow burn built deep inside. This was different than it’d been at the bar, darker somehow.

Probably because back then I’d had hope.

Now every rock of my hips was a betrayal of my club, my family, the father who’d given everything to take care of me through the years. But I was empty, and the growing ridge of Hunter’s erection would fill me perfectly—I knew it as surely as I knew he wasn’t real.