Raging Heart On_ Friends to Lovers Romance(110)

“Don’t fucking lie,” he growls, and I stop my tirade to look up at him.

“Nothing about what we did resembles punishing a child. I can show you the difference if you want. I’d be happy to.”

I see the threat in his eyes and decide silence from me might be my best recourse. He stands there for another minute, watching me and then he goes over to a weeping willow that is covered in Spanish moss. He stands with his back against the trunk and walks straight ahead, heel to toe, almost if he is counting off paces. While he is distracted, I look around for something to defend myself with. I find a rock a few feet in front of me. I bend down to pick it up, being as slow and quiet as I can. I keep my eyes on Max the entire time, not wanting him to see me.

I finally manage to grasp it, and I feel like I’ve won a war. With the rock in hand, and sadly it is small enough to clench my hand around, I start backing up. Once I put at least three hundred feet between Max and me, I turn to take off running.

“If you run Tess, you will not like what happens next,” he yells out. That makes me hesitate. His deep voice shortening my name and the way it rolls off his tongue nearly makes me groan aloud. For that reason alone I take off running. He’s just too dangerous to me.

I run back the way we came, my heart pounding as hard as my feet on the ground. I can hear Max behind me. He’s back there somewhere and fear floods my system. I know if he catches me I’m in trouble, I’m just not quite sure how deep that trouble will go. I have no willpower around him.

I’m just starting to go down the small incline he led us up when I hear him. He’s much closer than I thought he would be. I try to speed up, but I know it’s useless. Max wrapped my feet earlier, but they hurt like hell and my shoes, even without my much-adored heels, aren’t made for running, especially in Florida swampland with an escaped convict on my tail.

Max grabs me by the upper arm, and I scream. I don’t think, I just react. I turn into him, still screaming as loud as I can. I take the hand with the rock and slam the side of his face. It’s not big enough to do a lot of damage. It is, however, forceful enough that surprise works to my advantage and I’m free. Max stumbles back and again I take off. I don’t get ten feet before he pulls me down by the backs of my legs. I sail forward on the hard ground and crash hard. I fall face first. I try to catch myself, but I do a poor job of it. He roughly turns me around. I try to bring the rock up to hit him again. Max holds my hand and applies so much pressure, I think he might break it. No matter what I do, I can’t move it. Then, I see his face. His hair is rumpled, his dark eyes so intense and his face is as cold as steel. He’s mad and not just a little. He’s furious.

On the side of his face, there is dirt and red, angry scrapes. Blood. Yeah, there’s blood. He’s bleeding on his beautiful face, and that’s my fault. It hurts me, and my reaction upsets me. It shouldn’t bother me that I hurt Max. I should want to hurt him over and over. He kidnapped me. He started this! I growl; frustrated with him, with me, with the situation, and more than anything else my own stupid inability to escape.

“You’re going to pay for that one, Kitten.”

His dark voice is meant to be a threat, I know, but something about the way he says it sends shivers of awareness down my body. He pulls my hands up roughly over my head and imprisons them at the wrist with one of his. His mouth comes down hard on mine. I try to hold onto my resistance and not open my mouth to him. His free hand encircles my breast and kneads it hard. My brain ceases to function, and instead I count each time he clenches and releases. My nipples go hard, craving attention and I try to recall all the reasons I should respond to him. Then he grasps my hard, pebbled nipple between his fingers and even through the layer of my clothes it feels so good that I moan. He pulls hard, and there’s a sting of pain that feels divine, and I gasp.

Max takes advantage, and his tongue pushes into my mouth and I can’t even begin to stop the way my hips thrust up against him, seeking and needing more. Our tongues go to war with each other, each trying to conquer the other. My hands strain against his hold, as he continues his sweet torture on my nipples. Soon I become mindless, craving anything he will give me.

“You’re wet for me, aren’t you Tess? I bet that greedy little pussy is drenched,” he growls in my ear. My legs spread farther apart wanting him there. His hand slides against my stomach and under my clothes. I whimper when I feel those callused fingers brush against my center. “God, you’re fucking soaked,” he mumbles against my neck as I feel his fingers thrust inside of me.