Devil’s Game (Reapers MC #3)(25)
Author: Joanna Wylde

Well f**k.

Really shouldn’t have let my little head do all the thinking.

CHAPTER FIVE

EM

It wasn’t the best of weapons.

A gun would’ve been nice, or a baseball bat. Maybe pepper spray.

Knife?

I knew how to use them all. For the most part, my dad drove me crazy growing up. He was overprotective, overbearing, controlling . . . paranoid. Just paranoid enough to spend a certain amount of time teaching his girls to look at anything and everything as a potential weapon.

Even books.

God bless Stephen King, because the hardback I’d found wedged between the wrought-iron headboard and the wall was f**king huge. It had obviously been back there for a hell of a long time, too. Totally covered with dust.

I didn’t feel a moment of guilt as I slammed it down onto Liam’s head, just savage satisfaction. I wasn’t under any illusion that this was a stellar escape plan. The odds were against me. But if I managed to hit him just right, I might be able to knock him out long enough to cuff him.

Then I’d only have Skid to deal with.

I figured the longer we stayed kidnapped, the more likely it was more Jacks would show up. Waiting for a better shot wasn’t worth the risk—at least that was my logic.

The book hit Liam with a satisfying thud, knocking him to the side. I followed it with a smash against the side of his face, which he managed to block with his arm.

Still knocked him off the bed, though.

In an instant I was up and over him, kicking him as hard as I could. I’d aimed for his crotch but he twisted at the last minute, blocking me. Liam sprang back up—rather impressively, I have to admit—and then it was all over. He tackled me against the bed, pinning me down with his full weight. One hand caught both of mine and dragged them high over my body. The other covered my mouth, immobilizing my head so I couldn’t head-butt him.

My little rebellion had lasted about thirty seconds.

Crap.

Liam’s face was directly above, and I looked up at him, expecting to see anger or betrayal. Instead I saw his eyes dark and intense and hot with need.

Fuck. Fighting with me turned the bastard on.

I needed to start remembering that.

One of his knees pushed between my legs, shoving them apart, and then he was up against my center and shit . . . That felt good. Sometimes I hate myself. On the bright side, I definitely hated him more.

“Next time make sure you have a better plan, babe,” he said softly. “This one never had a shot, and you risked pissing me off. You do that to the wrong man and he’s gonna really hurt you.”

And you won’t? I wanted to snap, but he kept my mouth covered. Then he pushed his hips into me, the heat in his eyes flaring.

“Fuck, you tempt me,” he muttered. “You have no idea how much I want to shove my dick into you. No idea at all.”

I glared at him hatefully, because the smell of him, the feel of him over me, the adrenaline rushing through me . . . All of it headed straight between my legs. He’d invaded my dreams earlier. When he started touching me and I’d woken up, I’d already been on fire. Now it was worse, which was pretty damned unfair.

“I’m going to let you talk,” he said. “But remember, you start screaming, there’s nobody to hear you but me and Skid. Oh, and your girl Sophie. She can’t do shit to help you, but hearing you yellin’ will probably scare the hell out of her. That what you want?”

I shook my head as much as I could, which wasn’t much. His hand lifted.

“You’re an ass**le,” I muttered.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said. He fumbled with the cuffs, and a few seconds later I found myself with both hands fastened to the top of the bed. Liam sat up, straddling me. I was stupid enough to look down, where I found his c**k standing out, hard as a rock.

It was the first time I’d actually seen him.

Wow.

Liam wasn’t small. It was long and the tip was all red and angry looking. Just a tiny bit of fluid welled out at the very top, and I licked my lips unconsciously. His breath hissed and I flushed, forcing myself to look up at the ceiling instead.

“You still want me to get you off?” he asked, offering a dark smile. “Seems like the least I can do, under the circumstances.”

I flushed more and didn’t bother answering his question. I’d like to say this was because it was so crazy, or that I knew he wouldn’t listen if I said no. Maybe he wouldn’t. But a secret, dirty little part of me kind of wanted it . . .

And yes, the answer to your question is that I am definitely f**king insane. But betrayal and evil ways aside, Liam was hot—his body called to mine in a way that I couldn’t seem to fight. I’d love to say that it disgusted me to see how our fighting turned him on, but that would be pretty damned hypocritical.

It turned me on, too.

Something about how he overpowered me, the way he didn’t handle me like I was fragile. Liam wasn’t scared to touch me, unlike every other man I’d ever known. His fingers came down over my corset and unhooked it quickly. My boobs spilled out, and he took one in each hand, squeezing them softly, pinching at the ni**les. Sensation raced through me and I squirmed. Then he pushed them together, gaze utterly focused.

“I’d love to f**k your tits.”

I gasped and he gave a harsh laugh.

“Christ, Em, if that scares you, you definitely don’t want to know all the other sick shit I have running through my head. What I’d do with these, if I owned you . . .”

His voice trailed off as he scooted down my body. Then his lips caught my nipple and sucked it in deep. I felt his hand trail down my side, and it slid between us to tug down my jeans.

I was still wet from my dream, not to mention when he’d touched me before. His finger penetrated me smoothly and I moaned. Shit. How did he do that?

This was what people meant by chemistry.

Damn.

Why the hell had I wasted any time chasing after Painter?

Because Painter isn’t a f**king kidnapper? the sensible part of my brain pointed out. A second finger slid in and then his thumb started circling my clit. I moaned again, twisting underneath him. He pulled away from my nipple and laid his cheek down between them, giving a low laugh.

“How much do you hate me right now, Emmy girl?” he asked, his voice a whispered taunt.

I didn’t dignify it with a reply.

His fingers curled up inside me, pressing against my inner wall as his thumb slid slowly back and forth. I shuddered and my hips bucked. That tight tension that builds up to an orgasm crept through me, his power over me a tangible thing.