“Mara.”
She blinks, surprised by the intensity, but she doesn’t drop her gaze. “I’m just trying to help?—”
It’s too much—the concern in her voice, the softness of her touch. The way she’s looking at me, like I’m worth caring about. Something in me snaps. The tension, the anger, the longing—I let it all flood out in one swift motion.
Two quick strides and I close the remaining inches between us. Before she can utter another word, I capture her face between my hands and crush my mouth to hers.
THIRTY-FIVE
MARA
Each one of the Omega Chi Kappa officers are a delicious descent into sin in their own way.
Talon is Lust. He can make people crave his touch just from his wicked smile. He uses desire as a weapon.
Jasper is Wrath. He’s a ticking time bomb of rage, loyalty, and buried pain. He’s silent but incredibly deadly.
Dredyn is Greed. He manipulates people like chess pieces, earning himself control in every way.
And his kiss is no different. It’s an ambush, a punishment, forcing me to take every ounce of his hunger for more of me. My startled gasp is swallowed whole, his tongue shoving past my lips, forcing me to take him.
His teeth graze my lower lip as he growls, “You like making me lose control, don’t you, Hellcat? You like knowing you’re the only one who gets me this rabid.”
My spine hits the shelf behind me.
I should shove him back, be angry with him for not opening up to me. But my fingers curl into his shirt instead, holding on ashis tongue pushes past my lips—taking, devouring. He tastes like fire and ruin.
When he finally rips his mouth from mine, I’m panting. Lips raw, chin wet. His forehead presses to mine, both of us breathing hard in the silence.
“You have no idea what you do to me, Hellcat,” he growls.
“Then show me.”
His answering sound is a curse and a groan in one. Then, he’s on me again, hauling me from the shelf and shoving me back onto the couch.
My knees hit cushions. My skirt rides up. His eyes are dark with want. A look that terrified me back in that basement, but now, I can’t look away.
His hands search every inch of me—my throat, my waist, my thighs. His thumb presses under my jaw and I arch into it, dizzy with the pressure, with the way he controls every movement.
I don’t even notice when he shoves my skirt higher and my knees fall open under his weight. His palm drags up the inside of my thigh and I flinch, not because I want him to stop, but because it feels right.
His hand slips under the lace of my underwear and I jolt, gasping as his fingers find me already slick. His laugh is full of hunger.
“Fuck, you’re ready for me.”
The world narrows to that touch, the roughness of his fingertips circling, pressing, sliding. My hips jerk. My breath stutters. Shame and want twist together until I can’t tell which one is stronger.
He doesn’t let me look away. Instead, his other hand catches my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes as he works me open, his fingers sinking deeper, stretching me.
I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, but it doesn’t stop the sound that slips out—half whimper, half plea.
“Don’t you dare hide from me,” he snarls, pressing against my clit, working it harder. “I want to hear you.”
And I break. I moan into his mouth as he devours me again, his hand ruthless between my legs. Every stroke winds me tighter, every drag of his fingers pushes me closer to unraveling.
When he rips his hand away, I almost sob from the loss. But then he’s yanking at his belt, shoving down his jeans, his thick, veiny cock jutting out from his pants as they fall to the ground.
“You walked into the wolf’s den,” he says, dragging me down the couch until my back hits the cushions and my legs fall open around him. His hands hook behind my knees, forcing me wide. “Any last words?”
