Page 65 of The Fixer

The harsh bite of his words knocked my breath from my chest, and all I could give him was a shaky, “Yes.”

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it. I won’t touch you until you say the words.”

Flames raked my skin, burning a path from my face down across my breasts. “Please, don’t make me.”

“Tell me what you want, Eliza.” His rough command didn’t douse the flames, only made them burn brighter, hotter, made them spread all over my skin.

I searched down deep inside me, searched for the courage and the bravery I knew Jet wanted me to have. I sought out the fire that had once lived in my soul. Before I met Nathan. Before my wants and desires were put second to his, were forced to go dormant in the face of what he wanted from me.

Slowly, slowly, bit by bit, I inched my hands downward. Each muscle in his chest rippled and clenched beneath his shirt, telling horror stories I couldn’t hear. His breath held as I went lower, across the ridges and valleys of his stomach. His jaw clenched as I slid my hand between us, palming his penis while everything inside me told me to flee.

“I want this,” I whispered, a cry in my voice, “inside of me.”

In a moment, his mouth was on mine. His hands left my hips and tore my panties, back to front. Ripping them from my body, flinging them across the floor. I was completely naked and the man who’d torn every last shred of my clothing was standing before me, fully dressed.

“Fuck,” Jet spit, pulling back and looking down. He balanced me against the window, one hand tearing open the clasp on his pants. My own hands worked at the buttons on his shirt, getting two undone before his mouth collided with mine.

Then there was no room for thought, no room for the fumbling of my fingers between us. Because he was there, the thick tip of him pressing in me, a hard nudge before he slammed home.

“Oh!” I cried at the pain, at the bite. But he didn’t stop. He split me open, driving in, a delicious ache stripping me of my voice. My body slammed against the window as his body slapped into me, the sounds obscene and salacious, making my already heated cheeks burn.

Rough hands gripped at my butt, squeezing, pulling, sliding too close. And oh, I wanted it, every last thing he would give me. My mouth dropped open, a silent cry as his fingers traced. As they gripped and clasped, holding me tight as he pounded into me so hard, I was half-worried the window might break.

Deep in my stomach, something tugged. A chain wrapped around my insides, pulling taut. My sides clenched, my bottom puckering as the place where we met flared to life. Lightning zipped up my spine as thunder reverberated between my breasts, my legs on fire as everything burst.

Weightless.

Soaring.

Floating free.

My body shaking with tremors, my mind and my muscles quivering with aftereffects.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jet cursed, his body stilling as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “What have you fucking done?”

His arms wrapped around me, hauling me off the window. He carried me across the apartment, our bodies still connected, the jostle of each footstep sending shivers up my spine. He brought me into his bedroom, laid me down gently on his bed. Then pulled free from my body and stepped back.

My legs were splayed and, for a moment, I didn’t care that I was naked before this man. But then I saw the angry red color of his penis, the way it stood high and proud, his seed unspent.

I tore my gaze from him. Pressed my knees together and covered my breasts. My stomach roiled and heart lurched.

“Stop.” His voice cracked like a whip, his command making me jolt. He paced the space between the bed and the low dresser against the wall. “What are you thinking, Eliza? What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

My bottom lip quivered, my tongue thick. He stopped before me, and my gaze dropped. “Do you… not want me?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You didn’t…” I swallowed, attention dipping to the open waist of his pants. “I thought you wanted to.”

Hard laughter shook the air, but there was no humor there. Jet’s face was a scowl that I didn’t understand, and my stomach sank as he turned from me and walked away.

He moved to the wooden chair between his dresser and the closet door. Sat, legs spread, his hard, angry member standing up.

“I want to do so many things to you, Eliza,” he said, voice rough. “But if I told you, I might scare you away.”