As one, our gaze lands on our two cats playing with a discarded sock. I remember the night I found Queen Boudica huddled behind the diner trash bins, abandoned and unloved. I remember too the righteous anger that fueled me when that bastard broke in here and attacked her.
Eli’s right – what difference is there between them and the creatures Nero has locked away for the amusement of others?
I watch Eli. He deflates in the chair, as though the act of retelling the horrors of Nero’s basement has made him see the futility of fighting. “Forget it, you’ve got enough to worry about—”
“I’m making a promise to you, Elias Hart. We’ll get them out.”
I start to say more, but Eli crushes my mouth with his, and all thoughts and words fly from my head. My abdomen flares with fresh pain that drives the wind from my lungs… or maybe that’s Eli’s lips on mine, his hands roaming my body, his eyes raw with need.
My hands grip his shoulders, and I pull myself against him. I want to cry because he’s so perfect. Instead of crying, I kiss him harder, holding the back of his neck to force him to stay with me, to not hold back, to stop trying to protect me from the heat of his love. He thinks he knows what I need to heal, but all I need is him.
“I’ve wanted to get my hands on this body for so long,” I murmur against his lips as I tug off his shirt. His skin burns against my fingers, and as I grind my hips against him I can feel his thickness between my legs.
“We can’t do this,” he rasps. “We can’t risk opening your stitches and—”
“Shut up and kiss me.” I grab the back of his head again and force his lips to mine. Eli lets out this little moan that’s so fucking hot. He tries to pull away, but I’ve got him and like fuck am I letting him go. The moment my lips part his and my tongue dives inside, he surrenders, his arms coming up around me to tug off my shirt. Good boy.
I plant both hands on his chest and push him down into the chair. I kick off my jeans and crawl on top of him. He stares up at me with wide eyes, his pretty mouth cocked like he doesn’t know what to do with me. The Golden Boy isn’t used to surprises.
I know exactly what to do with him.
I slide off his pants and boxers, drawing out his cock in my hand as I deepen our kiss. I stroke him until he squirms beneath me, until his teeth drag over my lip and he has to tear my hand off him. Until he’s on the very edge of control.
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” he whispers, his breath caressing my lips. “How many times I’ve dreamed of making you feel so good…”
Heat tugs at my stomach as he slides his hand between us, rubbing my throbbing clit, using my own juices to make it slippery. I grip his neck and throw back my head as my whole body thrums with heat. Eli takes the opportunity to wrap his hot mouth around my nipple, teasing and sucking as he swirls his finger around my clit.
The orgasm slams into me – a freight train of pleasure crashing through my body. I wrap myself around Eli, not caring how much noise I’m making or that I’m coming all over his hand. As the orgasm crests and warmth floods my body, I look down at Eli, who’s staring up at me like he’s been lost in a desert for three days and I’m an ice-cold lemonade stand.
“Look at you,” he whispers. “You’re a dream. You’re everything.”
“Quit with the poetry and fuck me.” I croak out the words. I need him inside me. I need him to stop staying things that make my chest feel like it’s about to cave in.
Eli grabs my hips and shuffles me forward, positioning himself at my entrance. I grip the arms of the chair and lift myself up. All three of the guys went out and got tested while I was recovering from the bullet wounds, and I’m now on birth control, so we don’t have to use condoms any longer. I lower myself onto his cock. A sigh escapes me. Ocean-blue eyes lock on mine as his fingers dig into my thighs. “Fuck, Claws. You feel so good.”
I grip his shoulder with one hand, guiding myself up to slam down on him, burying him deeper. It hurts my wound to be the one doing the fucking, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. We both need this. He needs to know that he’s mine, that whatever happens, I’ve got him. I’m holding on.
He breathes hard, his hips thrusting up to meet mine as he kisses my neck, my cheeks, my lips. I feel another orgasm building inside me. I fuck him harder, driving through the spreading pain in my abdomen, bucking and fucking until we both shudder through orgasms.
I took those bullets for him. His pain is a part of me now, and I’d do it a hundred times over if he’ll always be mine.
Mine.
Eli Hart is mine.
10
Claudia
Inever got to attend high school back in Tartarus Oaks. I was homeschooled – I sat upright in my father’s study while he was out doing whatever mobsters do. I worked on essays and math equations with perfect posture and Greek vases covered in homoerotic red-figure paintings as my only classmates.
Even though I lack the requisite experience to make a comparison, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that Tartarus Oaks senior trips didn’t involve putting the whole class in first-class seats to fly to Germany for a week.
I sit between Noah and Eli, trying to pretend that I’m totally cool and bored with the whole process instead of freaking out in the best possible way. I’ve been dreading the Germany trip and leaving the manor in the middle of this shitstorm, but my fear gives way to excitement as soon as I buckle my seatbelt. Forget being on a plane before, the furthest I’ve gone outside Emerald Beach was when we drove to Everlasting Hart Ranch to confront Brutus. Everything from the boarding process and watching our luggage being loaded to listening to the safety demonstration and experimenting with my seat buttons is new and exciting.
As the plane lifts off the ground, my gut lurches with it. I think of Malloy Manor, empty and unguarded except for Galen. I can’t even turn the security system on my phone to check the house – it has to wait until we land in seventy-million hours. I flop back in my seat and flick through videos of Queen Boudica on my phone, trying to force my body into some state of equilibrium.
In the seats behind us, George and Gabriel swap phones to listen to playlists they made for each other. I haven’t been able to get George alone to ask about Isaac – I’m pretty sure she’s deliberately avoiding me. I’m going to fix that on this trip.
