But fuck that.
Without warning, I dart toward the metal gate, my steps quickly taking me over the asphalt of the parking garage. My steps echo, and my heart pounds in my ears as I run without looking back. That’ll only slow me down.
A sound somewhere between a scream and a gasp leaves me when my hoodie is grabbed, putting pressure on my neck. It forces me to slow down enough for Larkin to wrap an arm around my waist and yank me back to him, his body solid and unyielding. “Pathetic,” he growls in my ear. “Though predictable from such a silly girl.”
“Stop calling me that!” I snarl, forcibly spinning in his hold. My nose nearly brushes his as he grins down at me, and I wrap my fingers in his jacket, yanking on him, trying to destabilize him or pull him off balance.
Larkin, however, has other ideas.
He yields to the force of my hand, letting me drag him down until his lips press to mine. Softly, at first, his mouth slides, slightly open, against mine where I’m panting and hissing out aprotest. His chuckle is soft and breathy, and I’m still snarling as my brain processes what the hell is going on.
But he’s ahead of the game. Part of me wonders if this was his intention all along, with how quickly he reacts. His hands grip my hips, fingers digging in tightly through my hoodie as he drags me closer to him. Larkin breathes sharply against my open, panting mouth, and I swear I feel him grin against my lips before he yanks me against him sharply.
His mouth is hot and sharp andintenseagainst mine. My hands grab for his jacket, pushing and pulling, though I can’t decide if I want more or if I want to get away from him. Out of spite, I bite down on his lower lip, digging my teeth in until I taste blood.
Larkin snarls right back, and one of his hands grips my hair tightly enough that I gasp from the unexpected pain. He uses that to jerk me off of him, though he doesn’t look at all upset by the ferocity of my bite, or the blood beading on his lower lip. His eyes burn as he glares at me, lips twisted in an unfriendly smirk.
“Oh, you little monster,” he growls. “Will you fight me like this the whole time? Will you take your pound of flesh while I leave my marks on you, Tova?”
“Fuck you,” I snarl, slamming my palms against his chest.
“I intend to.” He lunges forward again, but before I can bite down, he’s the one to sink his teeth into my lip. I hold back my cries, swallowing them at the hot, sweet pain even as I feel the skin of my lower lip split from the sharpness of his bites.
When he shoves his tongue into my mouth, it doesn’t even occur to me to bite down. All I can taste is the coppery tang of our combined blood, and I fight to swallow the sounds coming out of my traitor throat.
I’ll kill him.
That is a certainty in my mind. If Larkin doesn’t kill me, I’ll kill him. I lean into him, and I shove my hands unceremoniouslyinto his pockets to search for the box cutter he stole from me. Larkin only chuckles and nips at my tongue, like he’s punishing me, though he doesn’t make a move to actually stop me. Instead, he takes the moment to deepen the kiss until he’s stealing my breath and I’m panting into his mouth.
“Where is it?” I manage to snarl against his lips, eyes open and glaring. “Where the fuck did you put it?”
“You won’t need it. Come on, Tova,” Larkin goads. “Do you need a stupid little tool to hurt me? I thought you were better than that—” It’s his turn to gasp, a choked-off sound leaves his mouth when I sink my teeth into his tongue with a snarl. I grab his hair with one hand, yanking his head up and back, and I go up on my toes to grip his throat with my other hand. My nails dig into the skin underneath his jaw, and his grin only fuels me to press deeper.
“That’s better,” he purrs. His hands leave me for just a moment, and then suddenly I’m in the air, losing my grip, and being thrown over his shoulder as an indignant squawk leaves me.
“Put me down!”
“Nah.” His steps are jolting, and send a disconcerted feeling up my stomach like nausea while he walks. Larkin’s arm pins my legs as I start to kick, and even though I try with as much desperation as I can muster, my hands slip any time I manage to haul myself up against his shoulder. His jacket doesn’t aid my cause, and I nearly bash my head on the elevator doors as he steps inside.
“If there’s a security camera in here—” I hiss, only to be cut off by his snort.
“Yeah, there’s not. But no one would notice if there were. People are into some kinky shit, Tova. This wouldn’t be the weirdest thing the security guard has seentoday.” God, I can literally hear his smirk in his voice, and I try again to kick him,only for him to easily hold my legs against him. The best I can do is reach back enough to claw at his scalp, and I feel a shiver go through him just as a low sound escapes his lips.
“Careful,” Larkin warns, his grip tightening. “You’re going to bite off more than you can chew if you keep on like that, silly girl.”
“Stop calling me that.” The movement of the elevator jolting upwards makes me grip onto him. Before I can do much else, his free hand comes down across the backs of my thighs like a punishment, pulling a cry of surprise and pain from me.
He snickers a little, then warns, “Then stop acting like one. But I don’t think that’s possible. You’re my silly girl, my little monster. And…”—his fingers knead my upper thigh, getting closer and closer to my ass—“my dirty fucking thief.” He slaps me again, this time directly on my ass, and I can’t muffle my cry as my back arches over his shoulder.
While my thoughts race, the doors open, and I can feel Larkin walking down the hallway with a pep in his step that definitely wasn’t there before. My head spins from being upside down and the shock of being spanked like a child, and it’s enough to occupy me until another door opens, then closes softly.
Suddenly, I’m on my feet, my shoes touching down on a hardwood floor seconds before I have the clarity to shove away from Larkin. He lets me go, watching as I stumble backward into the middle of the room.
“Where…?” Glancing around, my eyes narrow at the dimly lit space. The apartment is much bigger and nicer than the one I share with Esme. The living room is mostly open to the dining room, with only a short wall blocking part of the kitchen. His hardwood floors are a lot less stained and scratched than ours, and he had the forethought to cover them with a tasteful black rug.
“Like it?” He locks the door behind him, and when I turn to look, Larkin is toeing off his shoes onto the rug by the door. He shucks off his jacket, his hoodie coming next, leaving him in a black long-sleeved shirt. “It’s pretty rude of you to wear shoes in here,” he informs me, drawing slightly closer like he’s stalking me.
I don’t answer. I watch him, thinking, backing away and trying to keep my distance from him. There’s no way I’m about to take off my shoes, and it’s hard to think of anything other than the hammering of my heart in my chest.
