Page 11 of Swerve (Boosted Hearts 1)

“Ruby . . .”

“I’ve done self-defense and close combat classes as well.”

He cursed again. “You won’t give this up, will you?”

“No.”

His jaw hardened, and he shook his head, looking away then back. “Then . . . I’m asking you to give this up.”

How could he ask that of me? “No.”

His hand shot out, curling around my wrist. I froze.

“How the fuck am I supposed to protect you when you’re throwing yourself into danger every damn minute?”

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

His grip on me tightened, and he tugged me forward, shutting the door behind me, pressing me against it.

“That isn’t the damn point,” he all but snarled.

My hand went up before I could stop it, up to his chest, fisting his shirt, not sure if I wanted to push him away or pull him closer. “What is the point?” I yelled back.

“I protect what’s mine!”

I moved closer, getting in his face. “I’m not yours!”

“Woman, you’ve been mine since the first night you climbed in my fucking window.”

“What if I don’t want to be yours?” I fired back.

He stilled, staring into my eyes, silence stretching between us, until the goddamn air around us seemed to vibrate, crackle with tension.

“Neco . . .”

“Fuck that.” He moved quickly, one hand sliding around my waist, the other thrusting almost violently into my hair. “You don’t want to be mine?” he said, so low my toes curled.

I was trembling now, angry, turned on, confused as hell. “No,” I whispered, lying through my teeth.

He made a guttural sound, full of rage and wild hunger, then he slammed his mouth down on mine.

Oh dear God.

I stood there motionless for a split second, my brain unable to catch up with my lips. But then he fisted my hair tighter and slid his tongue along my lower lip. Mine parted on a startled moan and he instantly tilted his head, thrusting inside, kissing me deep, unrestrained. He tasted better than I’d ever imagined, so much better.

Neco was kissing me.

Neco was kissing me.

All I could do was hang on, my mind spinning as he pulled me closer, his hard body flush against mine, his scent, the rasp of his stubble, the sounds he was making . . .

A door slammed down the hall from us and he froze, pulling back suddenly. I gripped his shirt at his side, not wanting this to end, not wanting him to leave me.

“Ruby . . . shit.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “I’m . . .”

I shook my head. “Don’t say it.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, and then he said it, the words I didn’t want to hear. “That shouldn’t have . . . that should never have happened.” His arm had loosened around my waist, no longer holding me against him, and his grip on my hair vanished, the strands slipping through his fingers as he pulled them away.