Even better is that instead of fighting, we ended up laughing. Okay, not better since he ended up in pain. It’s just nice to see we have a connection.
“Told you to fucking run.” He growls the moment we step into the lobby.
After we left, Jackson started teasing about hunting me. But it became more serious the closer we got to the hotel, his eyes changing to dark and hungry.
I let out a long-suffering sigh, trying to ignore the way my cock twitches in my jeans. “Chasing after me is the last thing you should be doing right now.”
He just shoves his keycard into my palm, then gives me a rough push, his lip curling up into a snarl that sends heat rushing south.
“Run.” The word is a deep, guttural command, his eyes flashing with primal need.
I swallow hard, adjusting myself as subtly as I can. This is a bad idea. He's in no condition to be exerting himself like this, even if the Motrin alleviated some of his pain.
But the wanton desperation in his gaze, the raw desire . . . it calls to something deep inside, something wild and reckless and so damn eager to submit to.
So I turn on my heel and take off, my heart hammering against my ribs as his footsteps pound behind me.
God, what is it about being hunted by Jackson that gets me so hot?
It shouldn't turn me on like this, shouldn't make my blood sing with adrenalineandarousal. But the thought of him catching me, claiming me, marking me as his . . . it's the most intoxicating thing I've ever felt.
I risk a glance over my shoulder and nearly stumble at the intensity in his eyes, the predatory curl of his lips. He looks like a man possessed, like a rabid beast ready to devour me whole.
And fuck, do I love it.
I slow my pace just a fraction, letting him gain ground as we round the corner toward the elevators. They’re so tantalizinglyclose, but I know better than to wait for one. Instead, I burst through the door to the stairwell and take the steps two at a time.
One more dumb move considering my team has another game to play.
By the time I reach Jackson’s floor, my lungs are screaming for air and my skin is slick with sweat. I burst through the door, expecting to have a few seconds' head start . . . But he's already there, lounging against the wall like he hasn't just sprinted up six flights. The bastard must've caught the elevator, the one I foolishly bypassed.
He smirks at me, giving a mocking little wave before launching himself forward. I fumble with the keycard, but by some miracle it works on the first try. I fling the door open and dart inside, leaving it wide for him to follow.
The moment the door slams shut behind us, Jackson is on me. His hands fist my sweatshirt while mine coil into his thick chestnut hair as our mouths crash together.
The kiss is brutal, all teeth and tongue and desperate hunger. He bites at my lips even as his fingers work at the fly of my jeans, his movements rough and graceless.
“You slowed down, fuckface,” he rasps, nipping at my jaw. “You'll pay for that.”
I groan, my own hands scrabbling at his clothes with far more finesse. “I want to feel you inside me, asshole. Not ride in the back of an ambulance because you pushed too hard.”
He grabs my cock through my boxers, squeezing hard enough to make me see stars. “Damn, Kill. You really like being hunted. Look how much you're leaking.”
I can't help the needy whine that escapes me, my hips bucking into his touch. He's right, I'm already shamefully wet, the fabric of my underwear clinging obscenely to the head of my dick.
“Moaning like a starved slut already?” He chuckles darkly, his hand working me with ruthless efficiency. “So desperate for me.Don't worry, I remember the way you fucked me. Time to return the favor. Make you my bitch.”
The filthy words send a bolt of pure want straight to my cock, and I damn near come on the spot. I've never been so turned on in my life, never felt so utterly consumed by need.
“Strip and get on the bed, face down, and put that gorgeous ass I’m about to wreck up in the air.”
I scramble to obey, nearly tripping over my feet in my haste to shed my clothes.
By the time I'm naked and positioned on the bed, my chest pressed to the mattress and my ass hitched high, I'm shaking and my cock hangs heavy between my legs, dripping steadily onto the sheets.
The crinkle of a pharmacy bag draws my attention, and I glance back to see Jackson rummaging through it before tossing it aside, a bottle of lube and some condoms in his hand. He drops them on the bed beside me, his eyes glinting with dark promise.
“Time to teach you not to treat me with care. Remind you I’m a fucking Titan, injured or not.” His palm cracks across my ass without warning, hard and unforgiving.
