Chapter Four #3
The kiss was wild, desperate, and raw. Violet lost herself in it.
She loved the way Arlo’s hands roamed over her body, greedy and unrelenting.
The way he gripped her like he was afraid she’d disappear.
Their bodies fit together so naturally, like they had been made just for this.
His breath was ragged when he tore his lips from hers, then he began to trail a hot, open-mouthed path down her throat.
His teeth scraped against the sensitive skin at the base of her neck and for a moment, she thought he’d been about to bite her.
She gasped, arching into him, her own hands fisting into his damp hair to drag him closer.
“Arlo,” she breathed, her voice shaking with need.
That was all it took. His control snapped.
He lifted her effortlessly, pinning her against the wall, his bare chest hot and solid against hers.
Her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, and as he lifted her dress, the heat of his fingers against her thigh felt like a brand.
Their shifter instincts roared, wild and relentless, demanding more.
And neither of them could fight it any longer.
They didn’t make it to the bedroom. Because Arlo had no patience, and Violet had no control.
He pressed her against the wall, his hands roaming, gripping, claiming, his body a solid heat against hers.
Violet’s breath hitched as his mouth crashed back to hers, all hunger and dominance, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping her lower lip before he deepened the kiss.
She could feel him, all of him, hard and ready, pressing against her core. Her body clenched in anticipation, in raw, aching need. Violet barely had time to catch her breath before he reached between them and freed his dick from the confines of his pants.
“Tell me you want this,” Arlo growled against her skin, his voice a rough demand, a plea, a challenge all at once.
Violet didn’t hesitate.
“I do,” she breathed, her nails digging into his shoulders.
That was all it took.
His fingers gripped her thighs tighter, his body pinning her against the cool, solid wall as he pushed her panties aside then thrust inside her in one deep, claiming stroke.
Violet gasped, arching into him, clinging to him, taking him in.
The pleasure was instant, blinding, her body stretching to accommodate him, the heat too much and yet not enough.
It felt as if he was everywhere, inside her, around her, even in her soul. His breath was ragged as he moved, slow at first, then faster, deeper, harder.
She moaned his name, her head falling back against the wall as he devoured her throat with open-mouthed kisses, his teeth scraping her sensitive flesh and making her shudder.
Each thrust seemed hard, driving her ever-closer to finding release, and as her orgasm built, he gripped her hips tighter and his movements became rougher and more primal.
It was wild, unhinged, and raw. Everything she could have hoped for and more.
Their mate bond flared bright and overwhelming, wrapping around them like it was a living thing, refusing to be ignored.
She scraped her nails down his back, and as he thrust deeply, and she came hard, shouting out his name. Her body tightened around him, and it sent him over the edge with her. Arlo groaned, his entire body shuddering as he came inside her.
Only when her limbs felt boneless did he finally move, carrying her toward the bed, his lips brushing lazy kisses over her bare shoulder. With a knee to the bed, he lowered them onto the sheets, keeping her wrapped against him, their bodies still slick with sweat, still tangled together.
Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. Because somehow, everything had just changed. And Violet wasn’t sure if they’d ever be able to go back. She lay against Arlo’s chest, her breath still uneven, her body still humming from the aftereffects of her release.
But it wasn’t just the sex that had her off-balance.
It was the way he was looking at her now.
Like he’d known her forever. Like what had happened wasn’t just a moment of recklessness, but a certainty.
As if he had never wanted anything more than her.
Her chest tightened. This wasn’t how she was supposed to feel.
This was supposed to be physical. A moment of weakness.
A way to get him and the mate bond out of her system.
She needed to get out of there. She needed distance, time to think.
Somewhere his scent wasn’t clogging up her senses and confusing her.
Swallowing hard, Violet pushed herself up, sliding out of the bed before she could second-guess it.
Arlo’s hand was still resting on her waist, and for a split second, she thought he might try to pull her back down.
But he didn’t. He just watched her silently, unmoving.
As if he knew exactly what she was doing… but was letting her do it anyway.
She tried not to look down at him again because this wasn’t reality.
It couldn’t be. Reality was the fact that she was FBI, and he was CIA, and this whole damn thing was a bad idea.
Reality was the fact that she had a daughter waiting for her at home, a child who had already lost everything once.
She wasn’t going to let herself get wrapped up in something that she couldn’t afford to keep.
Arlo was watching her too closely. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her and feel the questions he wasn’t asking. But she beat him to it.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she said, keeping her voice flat as she finally allowed herself to meet his gaze.
Arlo didn’t move or speak, but his eyes darkened.
“You sure about that?” he asked, voice low.
She hated the way her stomach clenched at the sound of it.
She shrugged. “It was just the mate bond.”
“Right,” Arlo murmured, sitting up slightly, resting his weight on his forearms. “Just the mate bond.”
Violet swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod. She had to believe that. Because the alternative, the idea that there were real feelings involved? It was too much. Too dangerous. Too… permanent.
Without another word, she turned her back headed for the door. The moment she stepped outside, the Miami sun hit her, bathing the quiet street in a warm golden glow. But it didn’t chase away the cold settling in her chest.
No, go back, her dolphin urged. Go back to mate.
Violet ignored the nagging voice and exhaled slowly, pressing a hand against her ribs as if that would steady her racing pulse.
Then, with a sharp breath, she straightened her shoulders.
She wasn’t going to let this happen again.
She couldn’t. She had a job to do. And whatever this thing with Arlo was? It ended here.