Uncaged (An MMA Stepbrother Romance) (53 page)

The whirlwind enters my tattoo shop. All swagger, smug cockiness. But it means nothing to me, now. He’s just a whirlwind of trouble, scooping up all the shit he can into the eye of his storm.

Like I need that fucking turbulence in my life. Like I need all that damn collateral.

It’s been one day since I found out our parents are getting married. It’s been a day since he agreed to fight in some shady mob setup that is sure to land him – and anyone connected to him – in trouble.

There is no way I want to see him, and I already told him that.

But, still, there he is, pissing me off.

“We need to talk,” he says.

“About what?” I ask, pushing him into the small supply room in the back so Tina won’t hear us. Vials of ink, spare tattoo machines, books, and medical supplies sit on shelves. There’s a vacuum and a mop and bucket, too. We barely fit in.

“You already know what I think about this. You and I are over.”

This annoying grin parts his lips.

“It’s not funny.”

“It is funny.”

“It’s not,” I say. “Plus, now you’re involved with the mob.”

“Christ, Pen, I’m not
involved
. It’s one fight and I’ll win it.”

“Oh, you’re sure of that, are you?”

“I watched the tape. The guy’s powerful but slow. I’ll dance with him until he’s gassed, and then hold him. Easy.”

“You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?”

“All of it.”

He steps closer toward me, I notice that the veins on his arms are sticking out more, and that I can see muscle fibers under his skin.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

“No. Just getting ready for the fight.”

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. Growing exasperated, I shake my head at him. “So? What are you here for? What do you want to talk about?”

“I need you at the fight, Pen.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll get to see me in tiny shorts.”

Despite myself, I laugh.

“Hey, it’s me. You’ll take what you can get.”

“No,” I say. He has a great way of ruining a joke. “No. We can’t do this.”

“Yes we can.”

“On top of the fact that I don’t want to watch you fight, it’s too weird. We can’t keep being together. It’s too awkward. We’ll be
family
soon.”

“So? Cross that bridge when we get there.”

“No,” I say firmly.

He steps closer to me, takes my hand in his and pulls it up over my head. He begins to kiss the underside of my arm, moves to my neck. I don’t want to, but I turn my head to the side, let him kiss me, let him smell me.

“Don’t tell me it wasn’t fucking unbelievable. I heard you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t still want it.”

He presses my hand hard against the wall, pushes his body into mine. I can feel his hardness against my stomach.

“Pierce—”

“What good would it be for you to sacrifice something you want for the sake of your father?”

“It’s not about that?”

“Oh? Because I could swear you’ve got a guilt complex about it. About leaving him.”

“Shut up,” I say.

“Isn’t that what you told me at dinner?”

“Shut up, Pierce,” I say.

I’m angry, but he’s too strong; I can’t pull my arm down, can’t get out from under him. He pushes his forehead against mine, stares into my eyes. I see his wolf eyes.

“You’re telling me you want this to end?”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit. I make you feel alive. I make you feel dirty. I make you feel good.”

His hand is sliding down the front of my body, and when I feel his fingers touch the skin beneath the button of my jeans, I jolt.

“I want you, Pen.”

“Why?” I ask.

He pushes his hand inside my underwear, plays with me, teases me. He squeezes my lips together, then spreads me. I feel it all, and I’m already so sensitive that when he rubs my clit, I let out a soft moan. Appalled with myself, I try to get out, try to get away, but his whole body is against me.

“Stop it, Pierce,” I whisper, but he doesn’t. He rubs my clit so deftly, and it’s only moments before I feel my own wetness pressing back against me. I can smell his musk, feel his heat, feel his desperation for me. He wants me… he needs me. He’ll never let me go.

I know it all. It’s not just that he told me. I simply
know
it.

“Tell me you want me out of your life.”

“I want you—”

“Tell me you never want to see me again. Tell me you never want to scream again, feel the best you’ve ever fucking felt.”

He forces me to kiss him, claims my lips, rubs my clit exactly how I need it. I can’t concentrate anymore. I’m losing myself in it. I’m losing my grip.

I moan, my eyes fall shut. He rubs me so well, so fast, I’m right at the edge so quickly, too quickly.

“No,” I say uselessly. He doesn’t stop. I feel his finger at my entrance, and he pushes it in, and I shut my jaw tight so I don’t make a sound.

I hate myself for opening my legs a little wider. I hate myself for gyrating my hips to the rhythm of his fingering.

He drives me racing forward, brings me to oblivion so quickly. I climax hard onto his hand, bury my face in his chest, and then I’m coming down, panting, shaken, fogged-up.

“Why don’t you care?” I snarl.

“I do care.”

“Then tell me why you want me.”