Chapter Nine Larissa
Chapter Nine
LARISSA
TYLER GLOWERS AT me expectantly from the threshold of my bedroom door as I ready myself for another workout in his impressive gym. Adjusting my sports bra, I grab my Nikes and begin to lace them up as he watches me until I have no choice but to address him.
“What is it?”
“You are aware I’m the fucking right hand of the president?
” Already showered and changed, he’s dressed in boots and jeans and fills out a snug, long-sleeved Henley in a lethal way.
Stretching every inch with the bulge of his biceps and insanely muscular chest. Though average in height, there’s nothing at all average about his incredible build.
“I’m aware,” I say, pulling on my second shoe. “And?”
“And my time is fucking valuable. I might go as far as to say a little more valuable than yours”—he traces my every movement with utter contempt—“and you’ve wasted two fucking days throwing your little tantrum.”
“I see. Well, I disagree. I feel like I’ve given you a lot.” Grabbing some lotion, I dispense some into my hands and massage it in before rubbing the excess on my elbows. “I’m sure it’s all checked out.”
“You’ve given me everything but the key fucking players.” He tilts his head in disdain. “Pretty convenient.”
Capping the lotion, I toss it on the bed and palm my hips. “We both know you could get that intel on your own if you truly wanted to.”
“So then you agree you’re of no use to me.”
“I said no such thing, and you don’t think so either, or you wouldn’t be goading me … And what have you shared? A single part of your plan? No. A modicum of respect? No. How about a single fucking assurance that I will gain my freedom once I do give you the last of what I have to offer?”
“You’ll never have my respect, and the rest should be obvious,” he retorts.
“In what way? The only thing that’s obvious now is that coming to you was a mistake.”
“Yes, you’ve made it clear that I’ve disappointed you on every front. Sorry I don’t have a fuck to give about your opinion of me. Why is that so important to you, anyway?”
“That no longer matters.” I pick up my brush, and he eyes it, the thread holding what remains of his patience thinning in his rusted-penny eyes.
“Then tell me what does matter so we can get back to fucking work!” he barks, fisting his hands at his sides.
“We should’ve fucked,” I laugh. “Then maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with this version of you. How about that mattering? The fact that I can’t stand to be in the same room as you. Is that good enough?”
“A reason to risk your fucking life for? You’re the one who insisted we have to move fast, and you’re halting all forward progress.”
“Thanks to your guidance, Ciro is satisfied, and we bought time.”
He eyes the threshold of the room, as if there’s some invisible barrier just an inch past it that he can’t breach.
“Two to three weeks at most, and that’s only if I gather what I need to get it done. This shit ends here. Get out here … right fucking now, Larissa.”
“Good talk,” I sigh before stalking over and slamming the door in his face, then locking it. Ignoring his barked warning on the other side, I’ve just secured the last of my second braid when he splinters the door, leaving it hanging by a hinge as he glares at me, eyes dilated with fury.
Unimpressed by his display, I return his stare. “Yes, Tyler?”
He erases whatever barrier kept him from breaching the doorway in two strides, the violence in his posture matching his expression as he bites to match his bark with his following words.
“I don’t want to be friends, Larissa, and it’s pathetic you’re continually trying to make this physical. If you keep pressing for that, I promise you won’t fucking like the result. Walking around in your underwear only makes you look cheap, desperate, and even more pathe—”
The crack of my palm connecting with his jaw isn’t enough, as I rear back with my fist, ready to back it up.
Flat on my back before I’m able to let it fly, he pins me to my mattress, not just with his hands but with the full weight of his body, our breaths mingling as he stares down at me, eyes flaming.
“What do you think will happen if we fuck?” he spits, letting his eyes drop mockingly. “That some magical connection will spark between us to gain you some leverage with me? I thought you knew who I am.”
“I’m not playing games, you. Fucking. Fool.” I dig my nails into the hands holding my wrists.
“Sure you aren’t.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Consider this my permission for you to do your fucking worst.”
“Don’t tempt me, coglione.” Moron.
Releasing me, he stalks out of the door, and I charge after him, gaining ground before shrieking his name in fear.
Confusion mars his features as he turns back, just as my newly laced Nike lands squarely in his chest, knocking him flat on his back before I pounce.
Within a breath, I have my pointer pressed against his chin as if it’s the tip of a gun, the other hand splayed just above it as if to shield my face from blood splatter.
He manages to knock it away just as I pull the imaginary trigger.
“You’re far too arrogant and should know better than to corner—”
He flips us, knocking the rest of my words out of me as I find myself staring up at him for the second time, back radiating pain due to his unforgiving hardwood.
Our chests heave as the powerful undercurrent that is present when we’re close hums through my veins, our mouths already latched.
The kiss—that’s anything but—taking possession of us both as his tongue dominates mine while he rips down my sports bra.
I barely have time to register the movement as he sucks a nipple into his mouth.
Crying out, I tangle my fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp as he grinds his cock against me between my open legs.
Unsure of how he got there, I arch my back against him, his molten eyes blinding as his hot mouth brands me.
Palming my thigh open, he thrusts against me furiously—like he’s bared and already inside me—while still sucking my nipple painfully.
White-hot heat I can barely contain fills my veins as he dominates my mouth with the thrust of his tongue. My return kiss is just as fiery as he feeds and feeds until I’m forced to pull back, crying out his name as I begin to crest, already on the verge of orgasm, soaked and feral.
It’s my next cry that seems to jar him, and in response, he jerks himself away before slowly standing and staring down at me as if he’s remembered himself and his disgust for me. I follow suit, tucking myself back into my sports bra, equally confused by how fast it started and escalated.
Panties soaked, I rattle inside but manage to keep my voice steady with my threat. “If you ever lay a hand on me in anger, ever again, we’ll be fighting like fucking men!”
“Fine with me, sweetheart. I’m always up for a brawl”—he chuckles darkly—“but try to remember who struck first. I didn’t lay a fucking hand on you until I was forced to restrain you, but you seem to have a problem doing the same.
So maybe before you preach to me about boundaries, you try to keep your fucking hands to yourself. ”
“Yeah, and who just fucking kissed who?” I snap. My words backfiring when neither of us has that answer, and I realize quickly it’s because neither of us knows.
We stand off, both of us huffing and rattling with fury and sexual frustration as I start to realize just how colossal my mistake was in seeking him out. “Exactly what in the fuck happened to you, Tyler?”
“Stop fucking talking to me as if you know me. It’s not me you need to worry about,” he spits, his eyes flashing briefly with … something … before it’s gone. “Let’s just fucking get back to work.”
“I have other plans,” I dismiss, needing to be anywhere but near him.
“It wasn’t a suggestion.”
“I don’t take orders.”
Now at the foot of the hall, I eye the front door, tempted to flee, as he brushes past me and takes long strides until he reaches his table. He doesn’t so much as look up while issuing his warning.
“I wouldn’t bother. This time, you won’t make it a foot outside the door.
Get over here”—he lifts a cutting gaze from his open laptop, pinning me—“now, Larissa, or I swear to Christ, I’ll dump you directly on Ciro’s doorstep with a note safety-pinned to your fucking shirt and let the chips fall where they may. ”
Temper again flaring due to the threat, I open my mouth, ready to strike, when I’m thrown by the force of a blast so powerful it takes me straight out of consciousness. The ring in my ears brings me somewhat back as I fight like hell to shake away the black that’s edging my vision, and fail.
Eyes opening, I come to, having no idea how much time has elapsed. Ears still ringing, I blink repeatedly to clear my vision as I fight for consciousness and lose a second time. It’s then that I start to go in and out, willing my eyes open.
Open—smoke snakes through the whole room as a few rapid sparks of light crackle through the thick fog, sparks I know accompany gunshots.
Close—turning onto my stomach, I crawl blindly as the high-pitched tone fills my ears, keeping all surrounding sounds from reaching me.
Open—Tyler slides to a stop in front of me, on his knees, gun raised, lips moving rapidly as I order him to give me a weapon just before I again lose the fight and black out.
Close—I come to with the sensation of being lifted, the scent of my captor recognizable—masculine and heady. Strong arms secure me protectively in their hold before black wins again.
Open—Tyler peers down at me, his mouth still moving as I attempt to shake my head to relay I can’t hear a word, before I again succumb to the beckoning darkness.
Close—my body jerks with the motion of a … speeding car? I battle a bout of nausea, ears still ringing as I lose to the black again.