Chapter Seventeen
Remi
His lips skim down my neck, his breath hot, his words sinking into every raw place inside me. Stay.
For a second, I fight it. The guilt, the fear, the money burning a hole in my conscience, it all suffocates me. But then his mouth brushes lower, and I can’t hold the wall up anymore.
I grab his face between my palms, dragging his mouth back to mine. The kiss is rough, desperate, tasting of salt from the tears I haven’t managed to wipe away. He groans into me, hands sliding down my back, pulling me flush against him.
I climb onto his lap, straddling him on the floor, needing more, needing him to drown out the storm in my head. His hands grip my hips, hard enough to bruise, grinding me against him until I gasp.
“Remi,” he rasps against my lips, like my name alone is breaking him apart.
I kiss him harder, biting, tugging, pouring everything I can’t say into the press of my mouth. My fingers fist in his hair as his hands slide up under my shirt, rough palms scorching my skin.
The ache between my thighs is unbearable, the need sharp and consuming. I rock against him, desperate, reckless. “Please,” I whisper, the word escaping before I can stop it. “I need you.”
His eyes darken, a storm rolling through them as he lifts me effortlessly, standing without breaking the kiss. My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me to the bed, laying me down like I’m something precious, then climbing over me like I’m something he owns.
“Stay,” he growls again, pinning me with his body, his forehead pressing to mine. “And I’ll give you everything.”
My answer is another kiss, deeper, hungrier, because right now, in this moment, I can’t imagine saying no.
His weight presses me into the mattress, his hands braced either side of my head. The look in his eyes makes my stomach flip, dark, hungry, like he’s been holding back for too long.
Then his mouth crashes onto mine, no more hesitation, no more begging. Just possession.
I gasp as his teeth catch my lip, his tongue pushing past in a kiss that steals every breath I have. His hands rip my shirt over my head, tossing it aside, then slide down my ribs, fingers curling into the waistband of my jeans.
“Shadow—”
“Logan,” he growls against my mouth, the correction rough and demanding. “Say my fucking name.”
“Logan,” I gasp as he yanks my jeans down, his calloused fingers brushing over my knickers, pressing exactly where I’m already aching. My hips buck, desperate, and he smirks.
He doesn’t waste time. His jeans hit the floor in seconds, his body caging mine again as he grinds against me through the thin fabric. The friction makes me whimper, the need clawing so hard, I can barely think.
“You drive me insane,” he mutters, one hand gripping my jaw, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Fighting me, tempting me . . . you don’t even know what you do to me.”
“I do,” I whisper, rocking against him. “I feel it.”
He pulls my knickers aside and pushes into me with one hard thrust. I cry out, nails digging into his back as the burn of it twists instantly into pleasure.
He sets a brutal pace, every thrust deep, claiming, shaking the bed beneath us. I cling to him, half from need, half from the sheer force of him pounding into me like he’ll split me in two.
“Mine,” he growls into my neck, his teeth scraping my skin. “You’re mine, Remi. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, the words ripped from me as another wave of pleasure builds fast, fierce, impossible to stop.
His hand clamps around my thigh, holding me wide open as he drives harder, faster, until the coil inside me snaps. I scream his name, my whole body shattering as he continues thrusting through it, groaning into my mouth as he follows me over the edge.
We collapse together, tangled and trembling, his chest heaving against mine. His lips press to my forehead, softer now, his voice wrecked but steady.
“You’re not running,” he murmurs, sealing it like a vow.
His weight eventually eases off me, and his breathing slows as his head drops against my shoulder. I lie still, trembling from what we just did. For a few moments, I let myself sink into it, the warmth, the safety, the happiness I only ever feel when I’m with him.
Then he rolls to the side, pulling the sheets over us. His eyes flutter closed, exhaustion written in every line of his face. Within seconds, his breaths deepen. He’s out cold.
I stare at him, my heart aching and my stomach twisting.
Half an hour passes as my mind chases itself in circles—the money, the debt, the way my life always ends up fucked no matter what I do.
When I’m certain he won’t wake, I ease out from under his arm. My body shakes as I grab the hoodie tossed on the chair, tugging it on before slipping into my jeans and trainers. I glance back one last time. He doesn’t stir.
The shopping bags sit in the corner, innocuous but I know what’s hidden among them. My hands shake as I pull out the shoebox. The weight of it makes my pulse thunder in my ears. I tuck it under my arm and ease the door open.
The hallway is silent, every step an echo in my skull. Downstairs, there’s music blaring from the jukebox, glasses clinking, and bursts of laughter. The chaos is a blessing because it means no one is watching me.
I keep my head down, the box pressed tight against my side, moving quickly but not too quickly. Nobody looks twice. Not when there’s beer and women to distract them.
The cold air slaps me as I push through the door and out into the night. Relief floods me the second I hit the street.
I don’t stop until I reach the corner, my chest tight, my hands trembling as I pull out my phone. I press call, my eyes darting over the shadows while I wait for him to answer.
“Well, well,” his voice purrs, smug and cruel. “You’d better have some good news.”
“I have the money,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “Not all of it . . . but a start.”
There’s a pause then that low, amused chuckle that makes my stomach knot. “Good girl. I’ll text you a place to meet.”
The line goes dead, leaving me staring at my phone, the shoebox clutched tight to my chest, and the crushing certainty that I’ve just crossed a line I can’t come back from.
My phone buzzes before I even lower it, and the message flashes across the screen with an address.
I shove the phone back in my pocket, clutching the shoebox tighter as I move. My legs carry me faster than my brain can catch up. Every step takes me farther from Shadow, from the warmth of his bed, and deeper into the depths of hell.
I keep glancing over my shoulder, sure I’ll see him storming after me, but there’s nothing. Just the hollow echo of my trainers on the pavement and the frantic hammer of my pulse.
This is right. It has to be right, I tell myself over and over. If I can just get him off my back, pay part of what I owe, maybe he’ll ease up. Maybe I can finally breathe and get my head straight.
By the time I reach the address—a derelict car park in the middle of nowhere—my mouth is dry, my palms slick with sweat. A single car sits in the middle, and as I edge closer, the driver’s door creaks open and the same hulking man from before steps out, smirking as he pulls open the rear door.
I slide in, my heartbeat thundering. Inside, I’m met by the cruel smile of the man I owe.
“You know,” I say, forcing my chin higher, “we’ve had so much communication, and I don’t even have your name.”
“I’m impressed, Remika,” he drawls, my name dripping from his tongue like poison. “I half-expected you to run crying to your biker friends.”
“Not my style.”
His smile deepens. “Shame we didn’t meet under better circumstances. I think I would’ve liked you.” He holds out his hands, expectant.
I shove the box towards him. “I’m certain I’d still hate you.”
He flips the lid and peers inside, thumbing the stacks of notes. His expression hardens. “This isn’t anywhere near the twenty you owe.”
“I told you I didn’t have it all.”
In a flash, his hand shoots out, fingers clamping tight around my throat. The box slips from his lap, spilling cash across the seat.
“And I told you, your time was running out,” he hisses, spittle flecking my face. His other hand clamps onto my knee, the grip bruising. “Maybe I should take an extra payment to keep me sweet.”
The car door beside me suddenly yanks open. The hulking man leans in, his massive hands closing around my arms like iron shackles. I jerk back, but he pins me against the seat, my wrists trapped in his grip, the pressure biting into my skin.
“Hold her still,” my debtor murmurs, his smile widening.
Panic flares white-hot in my chest as he shifts closer. His hand slides up my thigh, slow and deliberate, the threat in his eyes unmistakable.
“No—” My voice cracks. I thrash, but the brute beside me doesn’t budge, his weight crushing me down.
“Relax, sweetheart,” the man drawls, leaning in so close, I can smell the stench of his breath. “You’re behind on payments. Consider this . . . interest.”
My stomach lurches, bile rising in my throat. Every nerve screams as his fingers dig harder into my skin, pushing higher.
“I said I’ll get you the money,” I rasp, straining against the hold on my arms. “Just stop.”
He chuckles low, the sound vibrating against my ear. “You’ve already proven you can’t pay.”
Desperation claws at me, ripping past my pride. “I can! This was just a start,” I shout, my voice raw. “I can get the rest . . . by the end of the day.”
His hand stills, his head tilting as he studies me with dark amusement. Slowly, deliberately, he withdraws his grip, though his eyes never leave mine.
“That’s more like it,” he murmurs, settling back as the brute finally eases his hold on my wrists. “See? You can learn when the lesson’s sharp enough.”
My chest heaves, shame and terror battling in my veins. I rub my aching arms, blinking back the tears burning behind my eyes.
“End of the day, Remika,” he warns, his voice soft but deadly. “And if you fail me again,” his smile sharpens, “we’ll finish this little conversation exactly where we left off.”
Shadow