Page 41 of Ash Storm

Fear filled her eyes as he trapped both her hands again and leaned in even closer.

“I swear to you I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. “But we have to give them a show.”

He took a deep breath, picked her up, and threw her onto the bed. Instinct had her turning around onto her front and crawling away. Ash stretched a long arm and grabbed onto her slim ankle, pulled her back towards him and flipped her around so she was on her back again.

Then he was on top of her.

Her eyes scrunched closed. A vein pulsed wildly against her neck. Ash could smell Reka’s fear. It made him sick inside.

She whimpered, and her whimper took him somewhere else. Suddenly, it wasn’t Reka he was looking at, but a younger woman who’d also tried to crawl away when she’d seen him, leaving a trail of blood behind her as she did so.

He knew then he’d been cocky and stupid to take this job on. He should have expected this would trigger him. He should have found another way. He should have—

He shuddered, and it was all he could do to stay still, when every fiber in his body screamed at him to move away from her.

The only thing that kept him from releasing her was the knowledge that doing so would likely get them both killed.

Zahra’s not here.

This is Reka.

She’s not hurt, but she will be if you don’t get your act together.

He pulled himself back with a superhuman effort—and found Reka staring at him strangely, almost curiously. He held on to that curiosity.

“I swear to you, Reka,” he whispered. “I will not hurt you. But I’m going to have to pretend to do so.” He sighed. She needed to understand what was at stake. “Or they’ll come in here and kill us both.”

Reka stilled. Her eyes held his, and she gave a quick nod.

He wanted to keep talking—to promise that he would keep her safe.

No matter what.

But they’d already been staring into each other’s eyes for too long.

He had to get his head out of his ass and make this believable.

“Keep fighting me,” Ash warned.

He made a show of holding her in place as he pulled his T-shirt over his head, wincing at the bruises on his side. The third fighter he’d taken on had been a tough bastard.

He made a big show of taking off his belt, then took off his pants and boxer shorts. With one forceful jerk, he pulled the covers from underneath her and got into bed beside her, covering them both with the white sheet.

And he could see the struggle in her beautiful eyes—she wanted so badly to believe him, but she’d been to hell and back in the last few days, and here he was, getting naked on top of her.

“They can’t hear us,” he repeated, knowing she probably didn’t remember what he’d said. “But they can see us.”

As his weight fell on top of her, Reka cried out. Her body shook beneath his and her eyes filled with tears.

Holding her wrists back in place, Ash positioned himself on top of her, trying to hold the weight of his upper body on his elbows, and began thrusting his hips rhythmically against her. His shriveled genitals fell against her inner thigh.

He thrust his hips forward and back, feeling bile rise to his throat with every thrust. And he knew he would never again, for as long as he lived, be able to hold a woman’s wrists in place during sex, even in the safest, most consensual relationship ever.

God.

I can’t do this.

He was about to pull away, consequences be damned, when her luminous, almond-shaped eyes met his.