I press closer, my chest against his, chin tilted updefiantly. "Stop treating me with kid gloves, Ramsey. I'm not some fragile wilting flower that has no fucking backbone. I've been through shit too."
His hands clench at his sides. I can see him fighting for control, the tension in every line of his body. "This isn't a game, Reese."
"Good. I don't want it to be a game." I step closer, pressing my body against his. "I want it to be real. I want you to stop holding back."
"You have no idea what I'm holding back," he warns, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes my skin prickle with heat.
"Then show me." I'm trembling, but I refuse to back down. "Chase me. Hunt me. Catch me. Do whatever the fuck you want once you've got me."
His breathing accelerates, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath my palms. "Reese?—"
"No." I cut him off. "No more excuses. No more protecting me from yourself. I'm done with literally all of it. If you can’t show me who you are, then we need to stop doing this thing between us because I don’t want just parts of you, Ramsey. I want all of it. I deserve someone who’s going to give me all of them. The problem is the only one I want is you."
His hands shoot out, gripping my waist with bruising force as he backs me against the wall again. He stares down at me for what seems like an eternity. I couldn’t tell you if it was an hour or only a few minutes but it really doesn’t matter. I’ll never get tired of his eyes on me.
He grabs me and starts moving us through the crowd.Bodies part for us—well, for him really. It’s like they know who he is, at least on some basic cellular level. Like subconsciously they know not to get in this man’s way.
"Where are we going?" I ask, pushing my legs to keep up with his long strides.
"I'm not about to fucking chase you here, hunt you here, fuck you here," he growls, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that makes my thighs clench. "In front of all these people. No one—and I do mean NO FUCKING ONE—gets to see you like that but me."
His grip on my wrist is tight but not painful as he pulls me deeper into the maze-like interior. The bass from the main room fades slightly, replaced by other sounds—moans, screams, laughter.
"Ramsey—"
"So if you're so fucking hell-bent on it," he continues, his voice makes my insides liquify, "then I'm taking you somewhere where I can control the field."
My breath catches. "What does that mean?"
Instead of answering, he pushes open a heavy metal door at the end of the hallway. Cool night air hits my face as we step outside into what looks like a loading dock area behind the warehouse.
"The truck. Now." His voice leaves no room for argument.
I follow him across the dark parking lot, my heart hammering against my ribs. He still hasn't taken the mask off, the blue glow creating an eerie trail in the darkness.
When we reach his truck, he doesn't open the passengerdoor for me. Instead, he presses me against it, his body caging mine.
"Last chance to back out," he says, voice muffled by the mask. "Because once we leave here, once I get you alone, I'm not holding back. You understand what that means?"
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"Say it," he demands. "I need to hear you say it."
"I understand," I manage, my voice shaking. "I want this. I want you—all of you."
Pulling my door open, he lifts me up into the cab, and I scramble to sit down, watching as he walks around to the driver’s side. He tosses the mask onto the dashboard where it continues to cast its glow across the interior.
"Where exactly are we going?" I ask as he starts the engine.
"Somewhere private. Somewhere I know every inch of terrain." His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "Somewhere I can hunt you properly. No one will hear your footsteps, your breathing. No one will get to hear your laughs or your moans. Or your screams."
Holy fuck.
Chapter 32
Ramsey
I've spent four years fantasizing about hunting Reese St. Pierre. Four fucking years imagining her running from me, breathless and terrified and so goddamn wet for me she can barely stand it.
