Stepbrother Unsealed(33)
Delia steps carefully over the streams of blood. She staggers over to me and throws her hands around my waist, pushing her face into my shoulder from behind, and just holding it there. She's breathing like she just ran a marathon.
“Jesus, Chris. God. You...you saved me.”
When my hands are clean – or as clean-ish as I can get them with the rusty water – I grab her little wrists and press them tight, running my other hand across her cheek. It's smooth and flaming hot.
My dick throbs. Against the odds. Against all reason.
I still want her, even when I'm standing in a shitty broken down bathroom with two sick bastards starting to rot behind us. Hell, maybe I want her more because I did what I had to, saved her from a twisted fate.
I can't stop seeing those fucks with their hands on her. It fills me with a deep, primal rage, something that explodes in my head behind a curtain of blinding red. The only man who ever ought to have his hands on her is me.
Only me. Nobody else. Not these evil sonsofbitches trying to force her into god knows what. Not some gawky little pissant in an Oxford shirt talking about his trust fund, or what a man he is for hitting the gym twice a week.
Delia's deserves better, and I'm it. I don't know why the virgin shit put me off for so long. She needs a man for her first time, her second time, maybe her first hundred times between the sheets. If I can give her that, then I absolutely fucking will.
I turn around, giving her a little jerk. “You're holding up better than I thought. You ever seen a man die before?”
She shakes her head, giving shallow, stricken looks at the dead men on the floor. “I don't know. Maybe I'm just...numb. I'm scared, Chris. What would've happened if you hadn't come through that door?”
“Nothing you ever need to worry about,” I growl into her ear. “As long as we're in this town, you're not stepping out of my sight. You drank too much and I let you get away. That's my mistake, babe, the only one I'll make on this trip. I don't do repeats. Keep your fingers wrapped around mine and let's get the fuck out of here.”#p#分页标题#e#
I lead her to the door, reaching down for my knife at the very end. One more quick rinse and it's clean enough. I also shove my hands into the pockets of the dead men, looking for ID. Predictably, there's nothing.
Good.
We need to get back to the hotel ASAP so I can clean up better.
I don't bother doing shit about the bodies. There are murders in this town every week, and this place is totally abandoned. By the time they stink enough for anybody to notice, my DNA will be untraceable, and if anybody identifies these sorry fucks, they'll never know a thing.
She doesn't say a word while we're outside, me holding her close, hailing the nearest cab. I step out and bang on the hood to make sure it stops. The driver looks irked, but he lets us in without a complaint.
On the ride back to our room, a bitter smile crosses my face. I'm a damned fool for worrying about screwing up her head with sex. Now, I'll be lucky if she doesn't need therapy just to live down this night.
There's only one thing ahead that'll sweep the agony of danger and murder away. Tonight.
No bullshit's getting between us. I don't care what the hell's going through her psyche every time I shove my fingers through her soft dark hair, stroking her while she's curled up against me, trying to forget what just happened.
She can, and she will. I'll make her. I'll erase every filthy mark left by their fingers on her gorgeous body, and then I'll leave her something to remember forever.
Watching me kill those motherfuckers is gonna be a footnote by the end of the week. After I'm done showing her all the things I can do to her, she'll have too much sex on the brain to ever understand the word 'murder' again.
“Eat, babe. You need to. You'll feel like shit tomorrow.” Okay, so it's not as easy as I thought.
When we get back to the hotel, I order the fanciest shit, and room service brings it up on two huge carts. She picks at her lobster bisque and takes tiny bites of bread, setting them down every few seconds like she's about to be sick.
“Was all that just normal to you?” Delia looks up, her eyes wide and bright, rippling. “I mean, is this what it's like to be a SEAL? Killing without hesitation?”
“I don't hesitate when I've got a mission that needs to be done. Every man on a SEAL Team makes a pact with God, the universe, whatever you want to call it when he signs up. It's their job to sort the rights and wrongs. It's ours to serve justice and follow orders.”
I throw a glass of wine down my gullet and then dig into my steak. My eyes flick across her chest, admiring how her tits bounce every time she draws a deep breath.
Killing those bastards hasn't done shit to my appetites – neither of them. It's Delia I'm worried about, and I need her to get something in her belly.