Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
As his tongue sought entrance, my initial resistance melted like ice on hot blade. Against such incomprehensible lust, I had no defense. I should have. My training had been intense in not only combat and killing, but seduction as well as how to control myself and not get caught up in moment. But I now knew something I doubt anyone of those sadistic bastards who trained me knew. There was no way to combat feelings this intense, because they couldn’t be inspired by just anyone. And, oh, how they’d tried…
What I was experiencing currently, though, seemed to shove past back where it belonged, weaving through layers of my guarded self, unraveling years of solitude and survival instincts in moments both fleeting and eternal. Piston moved a hand to nape of my neck. It anchored me to present, to him. His fingers threaded through my hair, pulling slightly, sending shivers down my spine that were both pleasure and dire warning.
Suddenly he pulled back, his breath ragged, his eyes searching mine in dim light. There was vulnerability there I hadn’t expected to see -- mirror to my own raw exposure. We were warriors, killers, not meant to find anything but death in our futures. Right? That mantra had been drilled into me from beginning of my training.
His gray eyes, dark and stormy, seared into mine with intensity that both frightened and excited me. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” Piston whispered, his voice rough with emotion.
The truth of his words stung like slap. I should have. Yet, here I was, drowning in depths of his gaze instead of plotting my next move. “Maybe I still will,” I managed to say, though threat lacked conviction now tangled up in heat between us.
Piston’s half-grin was edged with dangerous knowledge. “Maybe you will,” he conceded, the low rumble of his voice challenge and promise rolled into one. The edge in his voice could have cut glass, and it ignited something defiant within me. “But not tonight.”
Charged silence stretched between us, thick with words unspoken and moves unplayed. All those lethal skills we both had, our secrets and lies, none of it seemed to matter in that moment. I wanted to take this where we both obviously wanted, but, for the first time in my life, was utterly terrified. I’d rather be in plane crash again than open myself up to the pleasure I might find in this man’s arms.
His hands traveled back down my back with ghostly touch I felt through my leather vest -- the vest that proclaimed me part of Salvation’s Bane MC -- felt like both caress and dare. I knew in that instant we were trapped in web of our own making, each push driving us deeper into chaos.
He leaned in again, his lips brushing mine with gentleness that belied his strength and the earlier aggressive kiss. This time I didn’t stiffen. I opened my mouth and thrust my tongue between his lips at same time he licked at mine.
This dual exploration became another kind of battle, not one of strength or skill, but of vulnerability and surrender. As his taste mingled with mine, a mix of danger, desperation, and underlying hint of something like hope blossomed in my chest. I could feel layers of calculated defenses crumble within me. I had time to wonder if this was all some kind of cruel test, but simply couldn’t hold on to anything other than man with his arms around me and his tongue lapping at mine.
Our kiss intensified, no longer just a clash of lips and tongues but something more… connected? His mouth on mine felt just as desperate as I did. He was right. I should have killed him, but I knew I couldn’t. Knew I wouldn’t. That was problem. Because, for the first time since I was teenager, I had someone I knew I couldn’t kill. Sure, men and women in Bones, Salvation’s Bane, Grim Road, Iron Tzars, and even Black Reign were people I respected and maybe even cared for, but if I had to, I could kill every single one of them. I’d hurt afterward, but I could do it. Maybe. But Piston? Yeah. I wasn’t sure I could kill him, and had no idea why.
I tried to pull myself back, to reassess this whole situation. Except my stupid mouth wouldn’t be parted from the pleasure of his. My pulse hammered against his touch as if trying to beat out rhythm for new kind of existence, one where fear and pain weren’t foundation or even factor.
Finally, I managed to push against his chest and duck my head. I had no doubt there would be smirking grin on his face if I looked up and wasn’t sure I was prepared to deal with any emotions resulting from that embarrassment. Heavy groan seemed to be ripped from his chest as he pulled me closer, resting his chin on my head.