He drops his hands and shoves one between my thighs to grip me, and I’m shocked by my own response as my legs instinctively spread for him. The wall is cold against my back. His body is fire. Burning. Consuming.
His touch is rough, almost brutal. Like he knows I won’t break. Like he knows I can take whatever he has to give. He sweeps his thumb across the crotch of my leggings, the material chafing against my sensitive flesh. The friction makes me groan.
“Fuck, Geneva. You’re soaking wet.”
His words only make the ache worse.
He presses his palm against my mound, the pressure deliciously maddening. His other hand grips my hip, his fingers digging into my flesh. I can feel the strength in him, the power. Every flex of his hand could end my life. The knowledge makes me euphoric.
Eyes closed, I arch into him, grinding against his palm, desperate for more. He responds with a growl, the sound low and primal as it sweeps past my ears and straight between my thighs.
I don’t care if this is wrong. I don’t care that he’s a murderer. A psychopath. All I care about is how he makes me feel.
Sexy.
Seen.
Safe.
Things I’ve never felt before, all at once.
CHAPTER 32
GENEVA
My eyes fly open when Ghost snatches my wrist and moves my hand to rest on his cock. Damn. Even through his pants, I can tell he’s huge. Thick and hard, straining against the fabric. Pulsing against my palm.
“Can you feel what you do to me?” he asks, his voice a harsh whisper. “You drive me fucking crazy.”
“You’re already insane,” I whisper.
His confession sends a thrill through me. I grip his cock, stroking it through his pants. He groans, his fingers digging painfully into my hip.
He laughs, the sound low and wicked. “True. But you make me worse.”
“I doubt it.”
“Trust me, Doc.” He leans down, his breath hot against my ear. “You don’t want to know what I’m capable of. What ‘crazy’ really looks like.”
The words should terrify me. Instead, they send a bolt of heat through me. I’m playing with fire, but maybe that’s what I need.
I tighten my grip, stroking him harder. He groans, his hips rocking against my palm as he buries his face in my neck.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his voice strained.
I can feel him spiraling, giving me control over him. Good.
“Are you going to come for me, Ghost?” I whisper.
He jerks up his head to pin me with his dark gaze. “Only when I fuck you.”
Ghost grabs my hips and spins me around so quickly I stagger before landing against the glass. The second I push away from the wall, he throws his bound hands over my head, the cold chain links of his cuffs now resting just under my chin.
Then his hand is at the back of my head, pushing my cheek against the window. His hold is unyielding, a pressure that I can’t escape. And I don’t want to.
Keeping his gaze locked on mine, he slowly releases me to reach down and grip my pussy. In the reflection of the glass, I can see everything. The heat and desire in his eyes. The way his lips are parted, his breathing ragged.
He’s dangerously beautiful.
