Chapter 30
Emmett would not let me leave until the doctor had agreed my wounds had healed enough to be cared for at home, and I have a strong feeling Malik was behind that request. But after two weeks of bed rest and another week of rehab for my shoulder, I’m finally waiting in the car park by the correctional facility, and the dreary building brings my nerves to my fingertips.
My heart pounds in my ears, my mouth drier than cotton.
The courts didn’t allow for bail, considering he was already a suspect in Tony’s case, so they transferred him here to wait it out until the trial. I clasp my clammy hands together as I exit my car and walk through the security gates, into the small reception desk closed off with bars.
“Yes?” A bored, expressionless receptionist greets me. “Name and ID, please.”
I give her my information, and she waves me back through the doors. “Please wait to be taken through.” She looks around to ensure no one else is listening. “You’ll have thirty minutes. We usually only allow ten.”
My feet carry me through the barred doors to a small waiting area, the chairs stuck to the walls on either side, by myself in the space.
Then it hits me that I’ll be seeing Malik for the first time since that night.
I have so many things I want to tell him, so many questions I want to ask him, but as the guard calls my name, walks me into another small space, then leaves, they all fall out of my head.
His dark eyes are on me, his stubble clearly visible even in the low light.
There’s a charge between us, the same one I felt the first night I met him.
He swoops me into his arms and buries his face in my neck like he never wants to let me go, and I think I believe the words he said to me that night in my house.
“Fuck, Isla,” he breathes, the relief in his voice tangible as he hugs me tight. It’s almost like something has changed, or maybe it’s the trauma I’ve experienced that makes it feel like he’s different toward me. “How’d they let you see me?”
“Ezra,” I say, as we slowly pull apart. “Lucky we have him on our side.”
He gives me one of his lazy smiles that I’ve come to love. “It’s so fucking good to see you.” He guides his hand over my shoulder. “How’s the shoulder? Emmett told me about all your injuries.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” I fist his grey sweatshirt and pull his lips onto mine.
He tastes of sin, devotion, and danger rolled into one.
I smooth my hands around his neck, resting them on his broad shoulders as his tongue enters my mouth, our kiss growing from yearning passion into seductive compulsion.
“We only have thirty minutes,” I whisper through parts of our kiss, our breaths heavy.
“I only need five to make you come,” he murmurs as his lips travel from my mouth to my neck. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
His fingers work to undo my coat, flinging it to the side without taking his eyes off mine.
“Malik.”
“My name on your lips is my true weakness, Isla,” he says as he lifts my dress, hooking my leg around his hip. My entire body quakes with the need to be touched by him, and it’s not until he slips his hand between us that I feel the crown of his cock touch my pussy.
The way we left things weeks ago at my place hasn’t sat well with me.
As soon as I left, it felt like everything in me was pulling me back.
I don’t know why, but since we met, I’ve felt like I’ve seen him before, not just as a passerby at a train station, but really seen him.
Maybe it’s just our two withered souls, looking for life to bring them back.
His fingers brush my pussy as he hooks my thong to the side. I grip onto him, steadying my breath. Then he pushes into me, a primitive groan escaping his lips and fanning onto mine.
“I’ll always find you,” he says, sliding deeper into me as he presses me into the wall.
“Promise me,” I breathe, my core stretching to accommodate his size. He lifts my other leg and inches into me further, sliding in and out of me as the muscles on his back and shoulders flex with each thrust, holding me up.
“Whatever it takes, Isla,” he whispers into my mouth, the stubble on his top lip scratching mine, and the darkness is back, weaving its tentacles through the light to get to me. Like it knows I’m enjoying myself, and it’s back to shatter any hope I might have.
What if I can’t get him out of here?
I press my lips onto his as he drives into me, the force from his thrusts strong and deliberate, like he’s finally holding something equivalent to gold or a lost treasure.
His fingers dig into my skin, marking, burning his chaos into mine as our bodies move together.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, waiting to be let out, but I don’t say them.
I won’t ever say them to him, no matter how much I feel it.
Even if his heart belongs to someone else, I’ll keep it safe. I’ll love him like she would have, with unrelenting passion, deep and envious. I’ll love him for me and for her.
He pulls me into him and thrusts harder as if sensing my words.
“Fuck,” he groans through the warring of our mouths, and there’s something about the way his face changes when he’s inside me that gives me more pleasure than anything else.
It’s like he loses himself when he’s with me, like he can’t think of anything or anyone else as he drives deeper into me. “I’m never letting you go again.”
I grind my hips into him, meeting his thrusts as our panting becomes one, both of us now chasing our release, hoping to meet in the middle.
His lips travel down, his tongue creating a path from my jaw to my collarbone, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
I feel the arousal throb between my legs, the electrifying need to expel the built-up energy within me, and with one final thrust, I push all the air from my lungs with his name on my lips.
We stay here, tangled together in the aftermath.
His nose brushes mine, the slight sweat on his hairline glistening in the dim light, the circles of warm honey brown around his irises like a home I’ve made for myself.
Tucking my hair behind my ear, he smiles as he keeps himself sheathed inside me.
“There’s one thing I need to know,” he says.
“Anything.”
The smile is gone, the honey in his eyes now darker than the room. “Who taught you how to remove a transmission from a Corvette?”
I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing, because out of everything we’ve been through, that night and even the nights before, this is what he wants to know?
Fucking unbelievable.
“You’re joking, right?” I whisper, threading my fingers through the hair above his ear, my palm now cupping his face.
“Dead fucking serious. You think you can remove my transmission from my Corvette and I won’t ask you who taught you how?”
“Why do you want to know?”
The twinkle in his eyes, the one I’ve dreamed about for the past few weeks, is back, and it’s everything I missed and more.
“Because I want to kill him,” he says in a low voice through gritted teeth.
“You’d go to jail for a long, long time if you did.”
He drops his gaze to my mouth. “I’m already here, Little Nycto.”
Those few words are all it takes for reality to come down on us like an avalanche of knives, cutting through the wonderful moment we shared.
He slips out of me and shoves himself back into his trousers helping me down onto my feet as his cum trickles down my inner thigh.
“I’m going to get you out,” I say with a promise in my voice, but his lip curves into a sceptical smile. “And when I get you out,” I whisper, gripping him by the neck and pulling his forehead to mine. “You’re going to help me kill them all.”