“How about you learn to behave, you cold-hearted-emotionally-screwed-up-jerk!”
I slammed to a halt. “Careful, Ms. Weaver.”
She stabbed me in the chest with her fingertip, a maniacal laugh escaping her perfect lips. “God, you’re—I don’t know what you are. I think your rule of not letting people call you mad or insane is because it isn’t a slur, but the truth. You’re bonkers, Jethro Hawk. And you can hit me for saying it—but it’s about time someone pointed out the obvious.” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “You’re a nutcase. Completely cuckoo.”
I’d never suffered a barrage of words so fucking painful.
Grabbing her by the diamond collar, I shoved her backward until her spine hit the wall. Dropping my head so my mouth lingered above hers, I whispered, “And you’re the Weaver who let a psychotic Hawk between your legs. You’re the one who’s damned, not me. I have an excuse for what I am. You? You have no excuse but getting wet all over—what did you call me—a nutcase Hawk.”
Her lips twisted into a snarl. I tensed for her barrage.
Our eyes locked with fury.
Then something happened.
Something switched.
Fury became desire.
Desire became insanity.
I couldn’t withstand the command.
“Fuck this.”
I kissed her.
She cried out as my lips slammed down on hers. In a seamless move, I pressed my entire body along Nila’s twisting one, pinning her unforgivingly against the wall. My leg jammed between hers, opening her wide, crushing my thigh against her clit.
Her mouth hung slack for a second as her hips involuntarily rocked on my leg. My stomach twisted and everything I’d been trying to hide rose up completely out of control.
Heat.
Wetness.
Hardness.
An ache so fucking brutal in my chest it almost brought tears to my eyes.
Then pain.
I reared back as Nila’s sharp teeth punctured my bottom lip. I licked the tender flesh. She’d broken the skin.
Blood.
Metallic.
Life.
Her chest rose and fell; her eyes wild and sending messages that tripped and conflicted. She felt what I did. But she hated me for it.
Too bad. I had to have more.
I grabbed her, smashing our bodies together and reclaiming her mouth. Offering my blood, forcing her to drink my injury and share my bone-deep pain.
She wriggled and fought, but beneath her rage echoed the same mind-crippling desire that turned us from enemies into somethingmore.
“Stop—” she moaned before my tongue danced with hers, stealing her curses. In her arms, feeling nothing but heat and passion, I could pretend life was simpler. There were no debts, no arguments, no families, no hatred.
