Chapter 25 | Kate
TWENTY-FIVE | KATE
My feet pound against the gravel, the thick walls of green closing in on me. Anxiety sears my burning lungs, my mind racing in every direction, not knowing where he is.
I bolt left, trying to train my ears to his footsteps smashing against the earth in tune with mine. But it doesn’t matter, I can’t hear anything over my rapid heartbeat echoing in my ears and my ragged, uneven breaths.
This was his plan.
Intuition and vigilance can escape you the second your mind is racing as fast as your blood.
In a moment when it matters.
It’s more realistic this way if I’m terrified.
With each step, I’m aware of the straps plastered to my thigh. With its constant company, I don’t feel completely powerless and terrified of a weapon that only brought me pain. I’m learning to wield it.
Claim back my power.
If working out with Preston these last few weeks, as the sun comes up, has taught me anything, it’s that I can be scrappy.
His words, not mine.
He gave me the extra dose of determination I needed right before I found myself straddling his sweaty torso on the mat in the gym with my knife positioned above his heart.
It was empowering. Freeing.
As if I wasn’t enslaved to my circumstance anymore and could fight if I needed to. I’d rather die raising hell than be the docile girl I was when I left Oregon.
The way he peered at me with pride, with a loopy smile like he was mesmerized by me trying to kick his ass, increased my confidence. I can’t really beat him. Not in the literal sense anyway. His frame not only towers over mine, but he also has the muscle and mass that could squash me in an instant.
Preston is a unique breed.
A man created to crush and annihilate anything in his path, but he’s been downplaying his skill just enough that I have to work extra hard to get him where I want him—a slave to my blade.
On the other hand, he’s not so soft that, if I found myself in a real fight for my life, I’d be entirely vulnerable.
I feel stronger than I have in a long time.
Not just physically, but mentally. As if increasing my agility and awareness of what my body can do has chased away the powerless fog that poisoned me for far too long.
Sure, there’s still a muted sense of paranoia hovering over me, but I’m not as terrified knowing Xander is out there somewhere looking for me.
I have a long way to go, but I’ve learned a lot in this short amount of time.
Also, I’ve had to work my ass off against the added distraction of Preston’s hard, nearly naked body gliding against mine—being pressed into mine. Every. Single. Morning.
He’d be in the gym before me, taking out his frustration on that punching bag with such controlled movements.
Beads of sweat would slide down the ridges of his tattooed back and his temple.
The pure force and raw masculinity radiating from him were enough to stun me speechless the second I stepped through the door.
Then, like every morning, as if he’s taunting me, he would turn, letting me get an eyeful of the way his gym shorts hang low on his V-line that leads to his cock that I told him to touch while he made me come.
Not to mention the beautiful ink that stretches across his bulging planes, where that six-pack of abs leads to the dark, happy trail that dips below the hem of his shorts that my fingers buzz to follow.
To touch. I haven’t seen all of him yet, and it’s pure torture.
His body alone holds enough power to soak me on the spot, which is entirely unfortunate since the entire session not only tests my physical ability but also my mental stamina to keep myself from grabbing the hard erection he carries around when our bodies touch.
Like the other day when I found myself straddling him on the mat, our heaving breaths in unison in the otherwise quiet gym.
His abdomen flexed below my core, resting on top of him.
Preston’s hands started gliding along my knees, bracing him, moving them upward until he cupped my thighs, pressing his fingers into my heated flesh, abuzz with need.
I’m not stupid, I know he’s been going easy on me.
He’s a mafia boss; he could snap me like a twig with those hands that I used to think could only inflict pain and torture.
But not when I’ve felt how tenderly they hold me before we somehow pull ourselves apart to go our separate ways for the day.
And I say tenderly hold me because even when he has his arms snaked around me while I’m fighting him with my knife, the air between us is charged and filled with sexual tension that is bound to snap and mark us both at any moment.
Unfortunately, I know he’s letting me take my time after seeing my scars and knowing my trauma. The thought that he cares so deeply about making me feel safe and valued spurs on the feeling that he is different. Like being wrapped in his arms is the closest to home I’ll ever get.
Moral of the story about the last few weeks: he’s about as distracting as a dark god emerging from the depths of Hell. I know I should fight for my life, but I can’t help but want him to pull me under and devour me with that mouth that beautifully haunts my dreams.
“I’d say you’re dangerously captivated by your curiosity and wanted to see what it would be like to dance with the dark.”
If it were with him, I would.
My mind whirrs back to the present. My heart lurches into my throat, knowing he is hot on my heels even if I can’t see him chasing after me. He’s smart. Calculating every one of his moves while panic claws at my skin.
If I can pull myself together when he sets my skin ablaze and makes my heart pound, just as it does now, I can do this.
I can do this.
Sprinting through the maze, a section ahead emerges where I can take a left and head back towards the yard, or a right that leads to the center, where the fountain is located.
Darting right, I see the expanse up ahead opening to the center of the maze.
My lungs seize, but I push through, pumping my arms as I break the threshold.
A massive body slams into mine, maneuvering me so my back is plastered forcefully against his chest. Preston’s forest and smoky scent stir comfort, but I shove it away.
I can’t think about that right now.
I have to play this game as he told me: appear vulnerable at first, let their guard down, and strike when they’re least expecting it.
Gives me a more significant advantage if my size doesn’t.
So instead, the ink on his arms shifts and warps into different ones.
I picture cold gray eyes and short dark hair.
Xander's hold on me is tightening, trying to squeeze and suck the life out of me before he tosses me down and violates my body with more than just his knife.
I inhale a deep breath, keeping the image of that vile man where I need it to be.
It’s working until Preston’s lips glide against the shell of my ear, making me shiver, and the spell shatters.
All I can see and feel is him. Only him.
I’m trying and failing miserably to picture the monster searching the ends of the earth for me, but now, all I can think about is the one I’m going soft for.
The deep timber of his voice has heat licking up my limbs. “I hear your heart racing. I feel it against my own. I like that you’re scared of me.”
Preston’s arms tighten around mine, trapping them against my body. I need to distract him enough to free one so I can slyly grab my blade.
I play into the narrative. “Please— Please let me go.”
His dark chuckle elicits a flurry of goose bumps that prick my skin. “Why would I do that? You’re so pretty. Let me have a little fun with you first.”
In any other situation, that would sound creepy as hell and have me trembling, but coming from his mouth, I almost want to drop to my knees and give him what he wants.
These are the cards he’s playing. Chase me to illicit terror flowing through my veins and use my attraction toward him at the same time.
Two can play at this game, Captain.
My breaths are ragged. “What do you want?”
His arms around me loosen a little.
Even for the game, his answer seems honest. “You.”
“Why me? You could have anyone.”
He releases one of his arms around me, lifting his hand to glide his fingers over my bare collarbone. When they dip under my tank top strap and leisurely pull it down my shoulder, I bite back the moan that wants to escape.
Only one arm wrapped around me now.
God, I shouldn’t be this wet. I can feel how damp my panties are against the inside of my thighs. I’ve been on the run for the last year, but this is the first time being chased has an erotic need zipping between my legs.
But knowing it's Preston and not someone who wants to hurt me has me melting in his grasp, no matter how hard I’m trying to role-play this scenario he’s created.
“Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you at the edge of my dock. It’s like you were a drop of sun that somehow fell into my lap and made me feel warmth I haven’t felt in years.” His words freeze the breath in my lungs.
I listen intently while I slowly move my right hand along my leg, trying not to make any sudden movements he would feel.
My fingers glide under the slit in my skirt to the sheath on my thigh while he continues messing with my head.
“Because you’ve tested my sanity every. Fucking.
Day. You’ve contaminated my control. My work.
My empire.” Preston’s gravelly tone is a drug, slipping further into my veins.
He’s giving me a high I never want to come down from.
“You’ve distracted me from this war on my hands, imagining what it would be like to sink inside your glorious pussy I’ve tasted.
Wondering what it would feel like to fill you up with my cum so I can watch it weep with proof of my obsession for you before I thrust inside again and fuck it so deep you’ll never be rid of me. ”
“Oh, shit,” I breathe at the same time I release my knife from its confinement to mask my true motive.
My body quivers against his, feeling every line and stretch of muscle. He is a master of distraction. My clit throbs for attention, my nipples aching for his rough fingers.
His lips fall against the slope of my neck, and my eyes flutter closed at their warmth and the scratch of his facial hair against my skin.
My voice hardens. “Let me go or else.”
“Or else what?” he roughly chuckles. “You’ll run?
Careful, baby. If you do that again, I won't be able to keep myself from fucking you.” I’m supposed to be playing this out as a scenario, but I can’t focus.
That promise lathers over my skin, soaking into my flesh as he grinds his hard cock against my ass to further his point. “I like it when you run from me.”
I’m on the verge of snapping and handing myself over to him.
Get it together, Kate. “I said, no.”
“Your mouth may say one thing, but your body doesn’t lie.” With one arm wrapped around my shoulders, and his other hand gripping the slit in my skirt, I ready my knife. “Should I ask your pussy instead?”
Leaning the back of my head against his chest to bring my mouth inches from his, I mold against him and lift my arm.
To him, it may seem like I’m folding for his charm, but the second his eyes fall to my lips, I press the tip of my knife into the side of his neck, but not enough to hurt him.
One sudden jerk of my hand and I’d impale his carotid artery.
I speak the words across his mouth, but they are feeble. “Let. Me. Go.”
His lips lift into a satisfied smile. “Very good. I thought I had you distracted there for a minute.”
If only he knew. I swear I’m so soaked, I’m dripping down the inside of my thighs.
His arms release me, the removal of his body warmth making me shiver at the loss of him. “I expected you to put up more of a fight like you did in the gym, but this performance was applause-worthy.”
I turn around with a smile, my happiness instantly vanishing as my eyes lock on the red drop, dripping down his neck.
Retreating a step, my horror is written across my face. I slap a hand over my mouth, shaking my head. “I’m so sorry!”
Crimson slides down his neck, seeping into the collar of the gray t-shirt he’s wearing.
His head slants. “You think a little cut like this hurts me? Don’t fucking apologize, Kate. If it comes down to it, and someone isn’t listening to your threat, don’t be afraid to draw a little blood, darling.”
I sheath my knife back against my thigh. “But it was pretend.” I don’t know why I say it, maybe because I’m fishing for the truth.
Are my senses off, or did he mean those things he said about the day he found me on the dock? That I’m infesting his thoughts as much as he’s consumed mine.
When he swallows and says, “Not all of it,” we stand there holding each other’s eyes, both of our chests rising and falling, trying to catch our breath.
The air crackles.
Electricity sizzles and sparks in the space between us.
My body burns to feel every inch of his against mine.
And then, because I have a death wish, I run.