Chapter 25 - Malakai
TWENTY-FIVE
MALAKAI
It’s been days since Cross yanked me into that storage closet, and still, I can’t get him off my mind. His hands. His mouth. His voracious appetite … for me.
I glance across the fire in his direction and shudder with an embarrassingly aching want, my dick growing hard despite the fact I’m not alone.
He’s wrecked me. Made a mess of everything I thought I knew about myself.
Got me so fucking tangled up in my head, I don’t know what to do about it.
Slowly slipping away from reality into something that’s half memory and half daydream, I stare into the fire.
I peer into Cross’s oddly colored glittering eyes at close range, willing my heart to stop its acceleration, but it’s no good.
His fucking lips on mine are savage, teasing me, torturing, pulling things from me that I’m unsure of …
except in moments like these. I groan, feeling myself stiffen against the fly of my pants.
This thing we’ve started, it’s going to end in misery, because how could it become anything else in a place like this?
“Beg. Beg me the way I know you want to,” Cross whispers, voice husky and deep.
“Beg me to do all the things you’ve been dreaming about.
” Those words fill my ears and twist up my insides in a way not much else does.
He has this power over me that I don’t quite understand, but it’s something I don’t want to question.
I need what he gives me, but I don’t have a fucking clue why.
With every rough touch, I’m engulfed by heat.
It sears my skin but goes deeper than that.
Cross—with his wicked suggestions—is on the verge of incinerating every logical thought I’ve ever had and leaving behind only the ashes.
These stolen moments between us can’t go on forever.
We’d be stupid to keep up the dangerous game we’re playing.
Because now … it’s gonna be near impossible to stop.
We’re a runaway train heading for a dangerous cliff that means certain disaster.
With my body impatient for more, we roughly tussle against each other until I force him to turn around to face the wall.
I hold him in place with the weight of my body against all his finely hewn muscle and pant raggedly in his ear.
Desire lances through me at the wild nature of what’s running rampant inside my head—all the secret needs I’ve never told anyone about.
I cant my hips forward, thrusting against the taut globes of an ass I’ve wanted so badly to put my hands on, it’s been killing me for days on end.
My breath catches at the needy moan that erupts from his mouth, and my cheeks flame at the irrational state of my thoughts.
All the things I want to do with him could have dire consequences, but those aren’t enough to ebb the urge to nudge forward again and again, making the way I feel transparent as hell.
“Ugh. Fuck. Fuuuck, fuck.” Cross chants as I grasp his hips tightly enough to imprint my fingers on his flesh.
Grinding my erection against his ass, I whisper, “You want me to beg?”
“Fuuuck,” he groans out again.
I take that as a victory and allow my hands to skate around to the front of his pants, then unfasten them and tug the zipper down.
I grunt, all greed and want, as I dip my hand inside to envelop his throbbing cock.
Firmly in my grip, I wrench a raspy groan from him and triumph in the shudder that my touch draws from his body.
My voice throaty and thick, I murmur, “I think it might be you begging this time.”
“Fuuuck yes, I want you, Kai. Please.” As a result of the sure, demanding way I’m stroking his rigid dick, that groaned confession is immediately punctuated by the sharp slap of his open palm hitting the wall.
My eyes flash open, and I blink hard, trying to get my lust-driven thoughts under control. Confusion reigns supreme until I finally focus on the fire flickering before me.
It takes more than a few seconds to realize I’m not back in the front hall closet with Cross but instead sitting on a fucking log in front of a fire. Thank fuck none of the men I’m surrounded by day in and day out seem to notice my lack of attention to the conversation in progress.
Clearing my throat, I chuckle as the rest of them do, then shift my position, covertly readjusting my dick in my pants.
I tug my jacket more securely around me against the bite of the wind that’s picked up.
Frankly, I’m surprised Finneas allowed us this quiet evening of relaxation, but maybe it’s because he knows the bridge is far from complete and he’s been working us like fucking dogs with hardly a break. It’s been days on end at this point.
I grimace, knowing we’ll be right back to it tomorrow and drag in a breath as I touch my fingers to the back of my head.
Still don’t have a clue who attacked me, but at least this morning, after several uncomfortable days, I was able to get my stitches removed.
I fucking loathe the healing process and how fuckin’ bad it itches sometimes.
Allowing myself a quick glance in Cross’s direction, I recall what he’d said as he dexterously removed the bits of thread that’d been holding my fucking head together: the irritation is normal and has to do with the tightening of healing skin, nerve endings, and the release of …
Fuck. Now, I forget what exactly he’d said.
Maybe it was histamines? But maybe I made that up.
I shrug to myself. All I know is that as soon as everyone decides they’ve had enough of this fire, I’ll be glad for a normal shower to get the smell of smoke out of my hair.
On a heaved exhale, I stealthily look across the firepit once again. There’s not even any sense in denying what I’m doing. No matter how fucked I tell myself it is, my eyes return unerringly to the man at the center of my daydream. Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
Ever since the night he sucked me off inside that tiny closet in the entry of the main building, I’ve had a hell of a time not looking at him differently.
Fuck. As I peer at him from under the cover of my lashes, I realize the truth.
While the guy has always gotten on my last fucking nerve with his know-it-all attitude and the way he mercilessly used my tenuous status in the compound to tease me, he’s undeniably my type.
I’ll dig my heels in forever before letting him have a clue, though.
He’d only use it against me. And now that we’ve crossed the line from enemies—or rivals, maybe?
—to something entirely different, I guess I’m completely screwed.
For the next few minutes, I allow my mind freedom to wander …
and since he’s right fucking there, it veers immediately back to Cross.
He’s idly picking out a tune on that old-ass guitar of his.
I’ve never actually asked where it came from.
One of the Collective must have brought it with them ages ago.
I continue to watch and can’t help but think about the ease with which those same fucking hands had played me, stroking my cock into a rigid stiffness.
He’d sure as fuck coaxed me into following him down a dangerous path.
But as much as I’m adept at lying to everyone else, I can’t fucking lie to myself. I’d gone willingly.
My tongue swipes across my lip to dampen it, and a shuddery breath escapes me that I hope no one notices since I’ve spent way too much time staring at Cross from under the cover of hooded eyes.
Kai. I like it when he calls me Kai. All of a sudden, I’m overly warm despite the chill in the air.
If I think about it too much more, I’m going to end up with a boner and no way to explain it should I need to stand.
I have the same goddamn reaction every time I think about things he’s whispered to me while we’ve been alone.
And then … I feel his eyes on me, heat radiating from them, burning hotter than even the flames that stand between us. They flick from me, and then to a point in the distance and upward.
I turn around, following his gaze only to find a shadowy figure standing at the window on the second floor.
Delilah. My thoughts scatter in all directions, and my breath hitches.
I want the chance to talk to her again. Fuck, I want to be with her again.
Thoughts of soft skin and feminine curves and— Oh fuck, I’m so fucking fucked.
My mind is a jumble of confusion. I tear my eyes from her, turning back to find Cross’s knowing gaze on me. His brow raises.
I wonder what he’s thinking. He knows what I did with her, knows what I did with him, and I’ve spent plenty of time trying to figure out how I’d gone from fucking her to getting my cock sucked by him.
I don’t know how to explain it. Except …
I like them both. Cross pushes me to confront the truth of who I really am.
And she … well, she gets me. I roughly rub my now-sweating palms over the thighs of my pants.
But where do I go from here with either of them?