Devil's Game

I rubbed her stomach again, and she shifted back into me restlessly. Very nice. Skid’s warning that I needed to hurt her ran through my head, but maybe I could touch her just a little more, first. I promised myself I wouldn’t actually f**k her, which made it okay, right?

It wasn’t because I have morals. Hell, it wasn’t even because I knew she deserved better. I just wasn’t sure I’d be able to give her up once I’d felt that tight cunt squeezing down around my dick. Wars have been fought for less, and now I understood why. But seeing as we’d already fooled around once, I figured a little more playtime wouldn’t really change much in the long run . . . In fact, it would make the betrayal even worse. I’d be doing it for her own good.

I slid my fingers under the top button of her jeans.

“What are you doing?” she murmured, her voice sleepy.

“Makin’ you feel better.”

Em muttered something, but I couldn’t tell what it was and she didn’t try to stop me when I popped open the button. Then my fingers slid down the zipper and my hand slipped inside.

She was wet already.

Nice.

Had she been dreaming about me? Hell, maybe she’d been dreaming about someone else. If so, I needed to kill the motherfucker ASAP. She shifted her legs as my fingers found her clit, sliding past it to dip inside and collect some of that sweet moisture. Then I found that sensitive spot again and circled it, teasing.

“I hate you.”

“I know you do, babe,” I whispered. “If it makes you feel better, you can pretend you have a choice.”

“Do I?”

I considered the question.

“We always have a choice,” I said finally, and for some crazy reason my foster father’s face popped into my head—the way it’d looked right before I’d killed him.

The f**k?

“Are we going to have sex?” she asked, breaking through my twisted thoughts.

“Do you want to?”

It satisfied the hell out of me that she had to think about it. Then she shook her head.

“No, I want someone better than you for my first,” she said firmly. Fair enough.

“Let’s compromise,” I replied. “How ’bout I get you off. I can feel how much you want it.”

I circled her clit again for emphasis, and Em shuddered.

“Unlock me and take off your pants,” she demanded.

I burst out laughing.

“You’re supposed to be a little more subtle about seducing me into letting you go.”

“I’m not really good with subtle,” she said. “How’s this . . . You want to get me off, right?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Do you want my hand on your dick while you do it?”

I swallowed.

“What do you think?”

“Here’s the thing . . .” she whispered. “I won’t pretend that getting away from here isn’t a high priority. But you can feel for yourself how wet I am for you.”

My finger twitched on her clit and she shivered.

“So,” she continued. “It’s your call—is it worth the risk to find out whether I’m messing with you? I’m sure a big, bad biker man like you is more than capable of defending himself from me. You’ve already proven how much stronger you are.”

She wiggled her butt as she spoke, cradling my c**k between those tight cheeks. Hell yeah, it was worth the risk—and you’ll be shocked to learn the little head made that particular call. I’m not an idiot—I knew she was playing games with me.

I just didn’t care.

I stood up and stripped quickly. Em watched at first, then turned her eyes away as I reached for my briefs. I considered leaving them on to make her more comfortable. Yeah, f**k that. I pulled them down, then crawled across the bed and lay over her, lowering my face down to hers, catching her lips with mine.

I didn’t bother with the sweet kisses. My c**k had been hard for a hell of a long time and the idea of her touching it was almost more than I could handle. Probably a good thing she still had her clothing on.

Otherwise I might just lose control and push deep inside.

I knew damned well that would be a huge mistake for any number of reasons. Not least of these was the fact that most people would consider it rape. Picnic Hayes would probably be among those people and he had enough reason to kill me already.

Fear of her father wasn’t why I was determined to hold back, though. Some small, rational part of me didn’t want her looking back and rewriting what happened between us, to believe I forced her. Since when did I give a shit about a woman’s regrets? I figured it was better not to consider that too carefully.

Em pulled free after a minute and nuzzled my neck.

“Unlock me,” she whispered.

Fuck it.

I reached up and unlocked her, bracing myself for an attack. Instead I felt her arms come around me, their delicious warmth tracing along my back toward my ass.

Shit, that felt good.

I kissed down her neck and then started unhooking that goddamned corset. It must’ve had thirty little fasteners. I’d always thought these things were hot as f**k, but my interest in them was fading fast.

“Let me,” she said softly. I looked into her eyes and they were all soft and full of need. “Roll off for a minute, okay?”

I rolled off her and she blushed, then turned away.

“I’ve already seen your tits, babe.”

“It’s a lot, Liam,” she said softly. “Just give me a sec, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, letting my eyes trail down her back. I really loved that little tramp stamp of hers. Tacky as hell, but I’d always been a sucker for them.

Nice to have a target.

“What does your tat say?”

She sighed heavily.

“It’s supposed to say ‘Forever,’” she said. “My sister and I got them one night not long after our mom died, that’s why the angel wings. We wanted it to be a memorial to her. I have to admit, we were a little drunk when we came up with it . . . It was a bad time in our lives. But the guy who did it was a f**king idiot. It actually means ‘squirrel.’”

“Shit,” I said, trying to hold back a snort of laughter. Thou shalt not laugh at the naked girl when she’s about to touch your cock. “Well, I guess nobody looking at it would know. How’d you find out?”

“When I went to college,” she said. “I did a semester over in Seattle. My roommate was Chinese, so she filled me in.”

“That sucks.”

“Not as much as my mom dying,” she muttered. She seemed to be struggling with the corset, and I was just about to ask her if she was okay when she rolled back and clocked me over the head with a heavy, hardback book.

Well f**k.

Really shouldn’t have let my little head do all the thinking.

CHAPTER FIVE

EM

It wasn’t the best of weapons.

A gun would’ve been nice, or a baseball bat. Maybe pepper spray.

Knife?

I knew how to use them all. For the most part, my dad drove me crazy growing up. He was overprotective, overbearing, controlling . . . paranoid. Just paranoid enough to spend a certain amount of time teaching his girls to look at anything and everything as a potential weapon.

Even books.

God bless Stephen King, because the hardback I’d found wedged between the wrought-iron headboard and the wall was f**king huge. It had obviously been back there for a hell of a long time, too. Totally covered with dust.

I didn’t feel a moment of guilt as I slammed it down onto Liam’s head, just savage satisfaction. I wasn’t under any illusion that this was a stellar escape plan. The odds were against me. But if I managed to hit him just right, I might be able to knock him out long enough to cuff him.

Then I’d only have Skid to deal with.

I figured the longer we stayed kidnapped, the more likely it was more Jacks would show up. Waiting for a better shot wasn’t worth the risk—at least that was my logic.

The book hit Liam with a satisfying thud, knocking him to the side. I followed it with a smash against the side of his face, which he managed to block with his arm.

Still knocked him off the bed, though.

In an instant I was up and over him, kicking him as hard as I could. I’d aimed for his crotch but he twisted at the last minute, blocking me. Liam sprang back up—rather impressively, I have to admit—and then it was all over. He tackled me against the bed, pinning me down with his full weight. One hand caught both of mine and dragged them high over my body. The other covered my mouth, immobilizing my head so I couldn’t head-butt him.

My little rebellion had lasted about thirty seconds.

Crap.

Liam’s face was directly above, and I looked up at him, expecting to see anger or betrayal. Instead I saw his eyes dark and intense and hot with need.

Fuck. Fighting with me turned the bastard on.

I needed to start remembering that.

One of his knees pushed between my legs, shoving them apart, and then he was up against my center and shit . . . That felt good. Sometimes I hate myself. On the bright side, I definitely hated him more.

“Next time make sure you have a better plan, babe,” he said softly. “This one never had a shot, and you risked pissing me off. You do that to the wrong man and he’s gonna really hurt you.”

And you won’t? I wanted to snap, but he kept my mouth covered. Then he pushed his hips into me, the heat in his eyes flaring.

“Fuck, you tempt me,” he muttered. “You have no idea how much I want to shove my dick into you. No idea at all.”

I glared at him hatefully, because the smell of him, the feel of him over me, the adrenaline rushing through me . . . All of it headed straight between my legs. He’d invaded my dreams earlier. When he started touching me and I’d woken up, I’d already been on fire. Now it was worse, which was pretty damned unfair.

“I’m going to let you talk,” he said. “But remember, you start screaming, there’s nobody to hear you but me and Skid. Oh, and your girl Sophie. She can’t do shit to help you, but hearing you yellin’ will probably scare the hell out of her. That what you want?”

I shook my head as much as I could, which wasn’t much. His hand lifted.

“You’re an ass**le,” I muttered.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said. He fumbled with the cuffs, and a few seconds later I found myself with both hands fastened to the top of the bed. Liam sat up, straddling me. I was stupid enough to look down, where I found his c**k standing out, hard as a rock.

It was the first time I’d actually seen him.

Wow.

Liam wasn’t small. It was long and the tip was all red and angry looking. Just a tiny bit of fluid welled out at the very top, and I licked my lips unconsciously. His breath hissed and I flushed, forcing myself to look up at the ceiling instead.

“You still want me to get you off?” he asked, offering a dark smile. “Seems like the least I can do, under the circumstances.”

I flushed more and didn’t bother answering his question. I’d like to say this was because it was so crazy, or that I knew he wouldn’t listen if I said no. Maybe he wouldn’t. But a secret, dirty little part of me kind of wanted it . . .

And yes, the answer to your question is that I am definitely f**king insane. But betrayal and evil ways aside, Liam was hot—his body called to mine in a way that I couldn’t seem to fight. I’d love to say that it disgusted me to see how our fighting turned him on, but that would be pretty damned hypocritical.

It turned me on, too.

Something about how he overpowered me, the way he didn’t handle me like I was fragile. Liam wasn’t scared to touch me, unlike every other man I’d ever known. His fingers came down over my corset and unhooked it quickly. My boobs spilled out, and he took one in each hand, squeezing them softly, pinching at the ni**les. Sensation raced through me and I squirmed. Then he pushed them together, gaze utterly focused.

“I’d love to f**k your tits.”

I gasped and he gave a harsh laugh.

“Christ, Em, if that scares you, you definitely don’t want to know all the other sick shit I have running through my head. What I’d do with these, if I owned you . . .”

His voice trailed off as he scooted down my body. Then his lips caught my nipple and sucked it in deep. I felt his hand trail down my side, and it slid between us to tug down my jeans.

I was still wet from my dream, not to mention when he’d touched me before. His finger penetrated me smoothly and I moaned. Shit. How did he do that?

This was what people meant by chemistry.

Damn.

Why the hell had I wasted any time chasing after Painter?

Because Painter isn’t a f**king kidnapper? the sensible part of my brain pointed out. A second finger slid in and then his thumb started circling my clit. I moaned again, twisting underneath him. He pulled away from my nipple and laid his cheek down between them, giving a low laugh.

“How much do you hate me right now, Emmy girl?” he asked, his voice a whispered taunt.

I didn’t dignify it with a reply.

His fingers curled up inside me, pressing against my inner wall as his thumb slid slowly back and forth. I shuddered and my hips bucked. That tight tension that builds up to an orgasm crept through me, his power over me a tangible thing.

Shit, I wanted his c**k inside.

“You hate me enough that you want me to stop? Because I’ll stop, Em. Just say the word.”

He stopped moving, and my hips pressed up at him, begging for more. God. There’s something wrong with me. Liam laughed again, then started licking his way down my stomach.