For the Fight (Romantic Suspense) (Beyond Blood, #2) (4 page)

The tiny kitchen was getting warm. I adjusted my heavy jacket. “How do you mean?”

God, there were razors in her smile. “You can't let me die yet, can you?” I did everything in my power to keep my face neutral, but she must have seen something or
felt
something. “You're worried about what that would mean. If I just died right now—right here—it would fuck you and Jacob over. Right?” Her voice was heating up, she'd stopped leaning away and was now hunching towards me. “That's the truth.
That's
your real fucking truth! If I die before you and him get my letter, you know you're screwed!”

Looking down my nose at her, I forced my hands to remain still at my sides. “You already knew this, right?”

Marina's mouth twisted, jacket flexing over her chest. She was breathing heavy. It put all the wrong images in my brain. “Yeah. I knew I needed
something
to help insure I could walk out of that bar with you, ideally, agreeing to work with me.” Her beautiful eyes shrank, becoming sharp black diamonds. “I didn't think you'd want out of our contract so bad that you'd break into my
god damn apartment
just to try and find the letter.”

The bones in my spine became barbed wire. I came close to asking how she could know about that. Hadn't we been careful? We'd put everything back like it was. Then it hit me.
Shit.
I remembered how she'd reacted when she was opening her front door. It hadn't jammed. It
should
have jammed. The lock-picking must have fixed the mechanism. “You really are perceptive,” I murmured.
God dammit, Jacob.

Marina was a pit of lava ready to overflow. Next to us, the tea kettle started to whistle. Neither of us looked. “Whatever you did, you fixed my lock. That door turned like silk. Thanks.” She spit the last word out, abandoned it. “I mean, I noticed you the first night. Skulking around like I was stupid enough to leave the letter sitting out on my table.”

At least she didn't know I'd crept into her room while she slept and explored her purse, too. “Why are we having this conversation?” I asked.

“Because it's been on my mind!” Unfurling her arms, she tugged at her hair anxiously. “Because I just need to know what you and Jacob have planned. If you'd go this far, how do I know you'll really help me find the guy I want dead?”

The fury in her stare had my heart thumping. I'd been avoiding this girl for three days, and here she was, inches away and filled with the wildness that intrigued me. So little scared her, why else challenge me like this—or at all? “Marina, what are you afraid of?”

Flinching, she leaned over to turn off the stove. The tea kettle's scream was becoming too much. “Lots of things.”

“No,” I said, curiosity on my tongue. “What are you
afraid of?
”

She rubbed her inner wrist. “That you'll make me vanish... before I can kill him.”

I studied how she held herself and how she breathed. “Failure scares you,” I whispered. She snapped her glare to me, held it there. “Not even your own death, just not achieving your revenge?”

“I'm getting deja vu,” she muttered.

I didn't know what she was referring to. Somehow, I'd gotten closer—we both noticed it at the same time. I stood over her, my shadow on her toffee skin. Marina's skull tapped the wall, her body arching away from me. “You're really not scared of dying?” I asked.

She swallowed loudly. “It's not about being scared. I just don't care.”

I wanted to laugh. She didn't
care?
“Vengeance. That's what motivates you.” Marina nodded, I saw her fingers dig into the wall behind her. “Then tell me what you want me to do.”

“I—what?”

From where I was, I could see the flecks of sepia in her irises. “You want to know our plans. Whether we'll help you find this man or if we're just fucking with you, giving ourselves more time. We have your money, you have your letter.” The center of my brain was tingling with her nearness. “So tell me what you expect me to do, what could convince you we won't betray you... what would soothe your frazzled nerves?”

Her lashes touched her cheeks, she looked away. “I'm not nervous.”

My fingers closed on her throat. It was a soft touch, just to feel her blood flutter. Her gasp was small and delicious. “Yes,” I whispered. “You are.”

“Wait.” Her hands came up, grabbing my forearm through my jacket. Something spiraled in her stare, a passion and pain that fought to escape. Marina studied me with expectation, and I hovered and waited and
ached
to push forward. But I didn't. I don't know why. “Kite, you seriously want to know what would calm me down?” She clamped down on my wrist, gripping like I'd fade away. “Say... say that when this is all done, you and Jacob won't turn around and murder me. Promise you won't kill me.”

What the fuck was this situation we were in? I was bent over the angelic face of a woman who walked the line between wrecking me and buckling under my presence. She
was
scared of me. She was a liar to claim otherwise. “You know what I'm capable of. Fuck, you know in your gut what I am.” Cupping her chin, I would have forced her to look at me... but she already was. “I can't promise what you're asking. But what about you?” Angling my head, I lowered my tone. “Could you promise that you'll give us the letter before you get
yourself
killed? If you don't, you realize you're dooming Jacob and me.”

Under my fingers, her plump lips became a wry grin. “The letter really is all you think about, isn't it?”

I said nothing. How could I admit there was something—someone—that I thought about constantly? A girl with insanity bordering my own, someone who dared to say she wasn't scared of death and refused to back down from me. Marina Fidel owned more of my brain every minute.

Screwing her eyes shut, she let her hands fall from my arm—to my chest. “Yes. I'll promise that. If it looks like I'll die... if I even think I might... I will get that letter to you, somehow. I'll do my best to predict that moment. I promise, I won't seal your fate, or Jacob's, just because of my revenge.” Her nails dug in, pulling me to her so our foreheads touched. Her warmth and her smell—rain drops and cocoa powder—assaulted me.

In a part of the city meant for forgotten people, Marina swore that she would
not
abandon me. It was what I needed from her... yet it left me so god damn hollow.

“Give that bastard to me,” she hissed against my lips. “Get me that man, let me walk forward into my own bloody future, and I promise... Kite... I swear I'll give you that letter.” Her voice scraped over my heart. “But only after he's in my grasp. And only if you promise
me
.”

Gliding my palms upwards, I held Marina by the nape of her neck and turned her so she could see the intensity in my eyes. I wondered what else she saw there, because she licked her lips and shuddered. “I already said I can't promise you—”

“No,” she cut me off. “I get it. You won't promise not to kill me. Fine. I can accept that. Honestly, part of me was prepared for that possibility.” A cynical aura slid over her. “I just want you to tell me that you won't put my body in a fucking barrel.” She implored me, genuine distress mixing with the fuzzy edges of her growing desire. “Don't do that to me, Kite. Please don't go that far.”

How strong was this fucking woman, that she could admit she was ready to face her own death to get what she wanted? How deep did her scars go and why did they excite me so much? Marina was drawing me in, and in doing so, she was losing herself. I recognized the rawness in her throaty breathing. The red tinge to her mouth and skin.

I loved it.

My answer to her plea was an explosion of hands and teeth and one strained groan. Fuck, I'd needed to kiss her for too fucking long.

She gasped, trying to taste me and talk simultaneously. “Say you won't! Say it!”

“Yes, I... yes.” I removed her coat carelessly. We both heard stitches tearing. “No barrel, no acid. I swear, I fucking promise that.” It wasn't anywhere near the level of consideration she was showing me—us—by saying she'd hand over the letter, but it meant something to her.

Marina's fingers dove for my jacket, ripping it open and letting it fall. “Is this... should we be doing this again? We shouldn't, right?” she asked, her actions contrasting her words.

“No,” I agreed, shoving myself against her. “This is a fucking awful idea. Every part of this.” My cock thickened in my pants. She couldn't avoid the firmness of my raging erection as I rubbed it against her hip.

She whimpered, a palm slipping across my stomach. “Why do it, then?”

“Because I'm the King of fucking bad ideas.” Snaking fingers down, grasping her waist, I growled against the dip of her shoulder. “I need to do this—to have you. I can't help myself, and I don't want to try.” Her body tensed under me, I pressed her against the wall with my weight. “Tell me to stop. If you really don't think we should do this... tell me to stop.”

Nails scratched, knotting up in the hem of my shirt. “You'd really stop if I asked?”

My smirk went ear to ear. I glided it along her trembling jugular. “No. I wouldn't.”

Marina lifted her leg, hooking it around my hips to trap me. Her sinful voice sank into my cells. “Then I won't bother asking.”

Yes. I really was the King.

Spinning her, I pushed her face against the cracked wall. I thought we'd leave new cracks by the time we were finished. Marina was shaking, her ass pushing against my hard-on urgently. I loved knowing that she wanted this as badly as I did. We'd tip-toed around each other for days, as if that would fix our lust.

Me, a man who knew the girl he was touching was bound to death at his own hands. And her, a woman who recognized her fate and still ached to moan for me.

We were broken, and we knew it.

Reaching around, I cupped her breasts, felt the edge of the wire in her bra. It came away without looking, the plain, black garment falling to the floor. Through the texture of her shirt, I thumbed her already firm nipples. Her answering purr was glorious. My cock pulsed, screaming for air.

One hand unbuttoned her jeans, the other my own pants. Simultaneously we were bare from the waist down. I took a single eyeful of her round, plump ass and felt my whole center throb. I dug my fingers in, watched the soft flesh as I kneaded.

Marina whimpered when I spread her ass cheeks, tugging her panties into the crease. Pushing on her lower back, I forced her to arch. The motion revealed the appetizing sight of her pussy from behind, silken panties clinging to her lips. God, this woman—she was designed to lull my senses.

Stroking between her thighs, I felt the slickness soaking the cloth. “Ah,” she whispered, breathing so hard I barely heard her making any words at all.

Rocking my hips pushed my erection into the dip of her ass. Grinding, I liked what I felt—but I wanted a better visual. Peeling my boxers down, my cock bounced into view, heavy with its arousal.

“Kite,” she mewled, bucking into me and ruining my self-control. She'd done it herself, dug my stiff length between her plush cheeks. The sight had my heart on the verge of exploding. I couldn't handle this. I ached to feel her tight cunt again.

“You're ridiculous,” I groaned, ripping her panties until they shredded, becoming useless fragments on the kitchen floor. The elastic snapped, Marina gasped, and I could hear nothing but the blood in my ear drums. “How? How are you so perfect?” I asked, pushing her supple legs apart with my palms. Her pussy spread, pink and tempting.

Sliding my cock along her entrance, I saw strings of her juice clinging to the veined length. Each slow stroke stole more of her, until my whole cock was shining without even going inside. Leaning away, I watched the web of sticky need follow me. It tied us together, connected us at our most basic parts.

She didn't like how long I was taking. Glancing over her shoulder, Marina eyed me with passion bordering on anger. “Stop teasing me, Kite.”

“I like teasing you,” I said, gripping her wide hips and yanking her against me. Pre-come dripped from my swollen head, glistening on her ass cheek. “I like hearing you pant, and moan, and feeling your nerve endings go haywire.” I liked everything about this girl...

Except for her future.

Groaning low, she went to push off the wall and turn. Smoothly, I wrapped her hair in one hand and shoved her cheek back to the cool surface. Her tiny squeak had my cock growing harder, impossibly harder. “God, you fucking love that,” I whispered. Her body was scalding, liquid dripping down her inner thighs. “If you get any wetter, we'll slip on the tiles.”

Marina trembled, closing the one eye I could see. Her answer was to rock into me, giving away how much she truly needed my dick in her. With my free hand, I pet the outside of her bare pussy. Her clit was easy to find, swollen beyond belief.

One, tiny graze of my fingertip, and she surrendered. “Please, just fuck me!”

Bending close, I nuzzled her ear and inhaled. “That was all I wanted to hear.” Gripping the base of my shaft, I spread her wetness and drove inside. Her cunt rippled over me, sign language for 'never leave me again.' Or, that was how I pictured it. A guy can dream.

My lips found her shoulder, kissing the smooth skin. I let her hair go so I could hold both sides of her hourglass waist, using it for leverage. I didn't want dainty strokes. I needed to fuck this woman, and I wanted it to be hard.

Marina squealed, nails curled on the wall. She used it, pushing off to meet each of my thrusts. She'd given into her lust; maybe from the moment I'd kissed her. I didn't know, I didn't care about when she'd broken. Just that she had.

Deep to the root, I felt the tingles of her orgasm begin. If who finished first was a contest, Marina won. Hissing through her teeth, she threw back her head as the waves hit. The delicious, crushing spasms of her climax on my still pounding cock was pushing me over.

Lord help me, I bit her shoulder as the first hot spikes of pleasure possessed me. The vision of her getting pregnant was too much for my conscience, though. Against all odds, I ignored the primal ache to fill her with my warm come. Backing out, my pulsing cock-head rested on the top of her heart-shaped ass. Thick, pearly seed coated her skin as I gasped.