Go Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance(99)

“She’s not important, John. She’s just a girl.”

“She’s your wife,” he sneered, moving even closer.

Come on, asshole, I thought to myself. Just a few more fucking steps.

“Yes, she is, but she doesn’t know anything.”

“So you admit it!” he screeched.

“Let her go and we’ll talk some more,” I said.

He turned and stormed away, standing next to Selena. He pressed the gun to her head and I flinched.

“Shut up!” he yelled. “She’s mine. She needs to know the truth about you.”

“Okay, John, okay. What do you want me to tell her?”

“The truth. You’re a phony. You’re fake.”

“Okay, John. I’m fake. It’s all been a lie.”

“I knew it,” he said, practically in tears. He was completely insane, absolutely deranged. He really believed that the government was faking conspiracies and horrible atrocities all over the world for some crazy greater purpose.

He was so beaten down by the world, so sad and pathetic, that he denied reality. It was easier for him to believe in incredibly complex and elaborate conspiracies involving thousands of people than to believe that tragedies happened.

“Move the gun from her, John,” I said. “Point it at me.”

He pointed it at me. “Move,” he said, gesturing at a chair next to him. “Sit.”

I moved slowly toward the chair, keeping my hands up. “Okay, I’ll sit. Whatever you want.”

“Good. Then you’ll tell everyone the truth.”

“Okay, John. Whatever you want.”

“Move.”

I came closer and closer to him. Five feet, four feet, two feet, and then I was within distance.

He held the gun pointed at me.

Then I made my move.

Using the back of my left hand, I swatted the gun away. He pulled the trigger, missing me. I stepped in with my right arm, putting my right hand on his gun hand’s wrist and grabbed hold, turning my back to him.

He tried to punch me with his free left hand, but it barely hurt. I stomped his instep and then slammed my forehead into his nose once, twice, three times. Blood ran freely down his face, and I twisted his wrist.

He screamed in pain and dropped the gun.

I quickly followed that with a knee to his midsection, forcing him back a step. I struck him once in the chest, in the throat, and then in the nose. Finally, I grabbed his arm and threw him over my hip, sending his body crashing through the coffee table.

He lay there groaning while I picked up his gun and walked toward him.

“What’s your real name?” I asked him.

“Sam,” he groaned. “I know you’re fake. I know you are.”

“Sam,” I said, “I don’t have to kill you. But I’m going to.”

I pulled the trigger. I put a bullet between his eyes, blood splashing from his skull.

I made a face. I hadn’t needed to kill the man, but nobody fucking broke into my room and took my wife hostage. Nobody fucked with her. As soon as he had threatened to kill her, I knew he was a dead man. Before maybe I could have let him live, but the piece of fucking human garbage had threatened her, and that would not stand.

I tossed the gun aside, making a disgusted face, and then quickly went to Selena. I pulled the duct tape off her and pulled a pair of panties from her mouth.

“Nash!” she said. “You killed him.”

“Yeah.” I ripped the tape from her wrists and ankles. “I did.”

She threw her arms around me and hugged me tight, crying onto my chest.

I held her back. She probably would never understand why I had killed that man, and I was okay with that. I could bear that burden for the both of us. It was my job; it was what I was trained for.

I was a killer and always would be.



The cops swarmed the scene like bugs.

Three hours later, we had been questioned by every single detective in the area. Our story was always the same: When I’d wrestled the gun from the attacker, it had gone off, killing him instantly. Selena didn’t seem conflicted about telling this small lie.

Nobody would miss the dead fucking psycho.

Livy stood next to me, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Nash. I don’t know how this happened.”

“Apologize to Selena,” I said. “I’m fine.”

“She’s pretty shaken up.”

“Yeah,” I grunted. “She’s upset.”

“For good reason.”

“Sure.” I stretched, already sick of the questions. Selena was talking to yet another detective, telling him the same damn story again. I just wanted to get her out of there, back to somewhere safe.

Finally, the detective stopped grilling her. I left Livy and walked over to Selena, putting my arm around her. “You okay?” I asked.

“Fine,” she said. “God, Nash, that was so crazy.”

“I know, but you’re safe with me.”

She looked at me for a second. “I know that.”

“Want to get out of here?”

“Yeah, but we don’t have a room.”

“Hotel gave us another if you want some quiet.”

“Let’s go.”

I kept my arm around her and led her back inside. Nobody stopped us as we got into the elevator and went up to the top floor.

We didn’t talk. We didn’t have to. I think we both knew what we wanted. We moved down the hallway and I unlocked the door.

It was a much smaller room, a normal-size room. It had a single bathroom and a single queen-size bed.

As soon as the door shut, I pressed Selena up against the wall and kissed her hard.

She kissed me back, not surprised. She wrapped her arms around me, mouth pressed hard against mine, hands running through my hair.

I was on fucking fire. My cock was rock fucking hard, and in that moment, I needed her more than anything.

Because the only thing I’d kept thinking when that psycho had pressed his gun to her head was that I wanted him to kill me, not her. I was willing to take a bullet for her if it meant she would be spared.

I’d never really felt that sort of attachment to a single person before. I would have died for my country or for my squad, but that was a different thing. What I’d felt for Selena in that moment was reckless and intense passion. I would have done anything for her, which was why I had put a bullet in that scumbag’s skull.

I’d kill for her.

As I kissed her, I knew what I wanted, and I was going to take what I wanted.





29





Selena





As I kissed him back, I knew what I needed.

He had killed for me. Maybe he didn’t need to, but he had anyway. I was soaking wet as he pressed his strong body against mine, pinning me against the wall, and I wanted him so badly I could barely think.

He had risked himself for me. He’d made his move and made it fast, taking that guy out like it was nothing. He’d struck the psycho hard and fast, taking him out and then finishing him off. He could have played along, but I could tell that the moment the psycho threatened me, Nash was going to make a move. I could see it in his eyes.

He cared about me, more than he was probably willing to admit. And in that moment, watching Nash kill for me, I knew I felt the same way. I was falling deeply for him, body and mind, and after the rush and emotional terror of the last few minutes, I was ready to give myself to him.

He pressed his hands down my thin shorts, bypassing my panties, and pressed his fingers against my soaked clit.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he said, “like you always are for me.”

“Nash, I can’t help it,” I said.

He began to stroke me, soft circles, amazing sensual touches that sent shivers of pleasure through my mind. “Shit,” I said. “Oh god that feels good.”

“You dirty girl,” he grunted. “You’ve been thinking about this all morning, about getting fucked rough by me.”

“Nash,” I whispered.

“You’re my wife,” he grunted. “My fucking girl, Selena. This pussy is mine.” He pressed his fingers deep inside me, and I moaned loudly. “Every inch of you is mine to do with what I want.”

“Yes,” I panted. “Yes, whatever you want.”

He pulled me from the wall and pushed me toward the bed. “Strip,” he commanded.

I did as he told me. I took off my shirt, unhooked my bra, took off my shorts, and tossed aside my panties. I stood in front of him completely naked. His eyes took in the full length of my body before he grabbed my hips, spinning me around. He pushed me over, putting my hands on the bedspread.

He grabbed my hair, tilting my head back to whisper in my ear. “I love this fucking pussy,” he said as he pressed his fingers deep inside me. “Fuck, Selena, I need this tight fucking pussy.”

“Oh my god, Nash,” I said as he fucked me with his fingers. “I want to feel you inside me so badly.”

He continued to stroke me with his fingers, his body pressed closer against mine, his lips next to my ear. His hands held my hair firmly as he went from rubbing my clit to fucking my pussy with his fingers.

“I want to taste you,” he said. “I want to taste every inch of you. I want to feel your tight cunt wrapped around my thick cock.”

“Whatever you want, Nash. I want you.”

He pulled back, and suddenly I felt his hands on my hips. I gasped as his face pressed against my pussy from behind, his tongue moving inside my pussy.