First Debt

Kiss me" “You’re a fucking nightmare.” “Kiss me.” “You’re ruining my life.” “Kiss me, Jethro. Kiss me.

You’ve destroyed me, Nila. And now it’s my job to make sure they don’t destroy you, too.

You feel me inside you? You feel me claiming you? You feel me destroying you? You feel me around you? You feel me undermining you? You feel me making you care?

We’re fucked, Nila Weaver. Well and truly fucked.

I wouldn’t just kiss you. I would hold your cheeks and worship your mouth. I would devour your lips and make drunken love to your tongue. I would fucking inhale you, so you would live forever in my lungs...

This wasn’t about the chase. We all knew who would win. It was about defiance.

I’m a better person away from the people who love me most.

This single-minded lust between us was sacred.

I wanted to take from him. Not enjoy what he’d give

So eager, Ms. Weaver. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like the taste of me.

In his late twenties, Jethro wore command like one would wear cologne.

His fingers dug into my nape with everything he kept hidden.

Not for the first time, I wondered if my entire family tree was bat-shit crazy.

The image of her bounding away—pristine

I was stolen by a Debt Inheritance. The First Debt Taught me Lust The Second Debt Brought me Love The Third Debt Shaped my Hate the Fourth Debt Escaped my Fate And the Finale Debt Made me Immortal...

Spreading her stance and opening her arms wide, she murmured, “Do your worst, Jethro Hawk. I’m ready to pay your First Debt.

La gioia data da quanto progettavo penetrò nel mio cuore doppiogiochista e mi disse che era l’inizio della fine. Avremmo continuato a rovinarci l’un l’altro. Avremmo continuato a profanare debiti e giuramenti. E avremmo continuato a mandare a puttane il nostro futuro fino a quando non sarebbe rimasto nient’altro che orrore

Bolly moved in front of Nila, sniffing at the items as if they were a danger to the woman he’d helped hunt down. I was a hypocrite? Look at the bloody dog.

Jethro exploded. “It would’ve been better than me fighting a fucking battle every damn day with how much I want to fuck you!” My heart swooped, nipples pebbling with the tormented need in his voice. “Don’t you think I have the same problem? How can I live with the knowledge that I hate you, that you’re my future killer, yet I can’t stop my body from craving you? Don’t you think I hate the fact that you make me wet against my wishes?” Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. Jethro froze, panting hard. The silence was deafening.

Glaring, I snarled, “Kiss me. Give me one fracture of human company, and I’ll never say another word to you again. I’ll be whatever you want. Just kiss me!” His eyes narrowed. “You’re an idiot.” “So you keep telling me.” “You’re wasting your time.” “So you keep telling me.” “I don’t want to kiss you!” I lashed out. My arms came up. I opened my palm. And I slapped the self-righteous, egotistical arsehole on the cheek. The moment went from lust-heavy to stagnant with violence. We stared, caught dead centre in war. “You’re a fucking nightmare,” he snapped. “Kiss me.” “You’re ruining my life.” “Kiss me.” “You’re—” “Kiss me, Jethro. Kiss me. Just fucking kiss me and give me—” His body crashed against mine. His hands flew up, grabbing my cheeks and holding me firm. His lips, oh his lips, they bruised mine as his head tilted, and with pure anger, he gave me what I’d wanted for weeks. He kissed me. My lungs were empty—he’d stolen all my air, but I no longer survived on oxygen. I survived on his mouth, his taste, his unbridled energy pouring down my throat. His tongue tore past my lips, taking me savage and hungry. There was nothing sweet or gentle. This was a punishment. A reminder that I hadn’t won. He wasn’t kissing me. He was fighting me in every underhanded way. His hands dropped from my cheeks, cupping my breasts. The violence in his touch throbbed instantly. I arched my back, opening my mouth wider to scream, but he swallowed my cries, kissing me deeper, harder, stealing every inch of sanity I had left. I thought a kiss would put me on even ground—show him that he did care. That he was human—just like me. I hadn’t gambled on being detonated into a billion tiny pieces that had no notion of who I’d been before he’d stolen my soul. He backed me up, faster and faster to the bed. His breath saturated my lungs. His touch skated from my cheeks, to my breasts, to my waist, to my arse. Jerking me hard against the huge length of arousal in his jeans. The bed stopped our motion, tumbling us onto the sheets, but nothing, absolutely nothing could unweld our lips. We were joined, kissing, frantic, desperate. He groaned as I slid my hands beneath his t-shirt, needing to feel his skin against mine. He was blood and fire and heat. So different to the glacier he pretended to be. “Fuck,” he grunted

What just happened can never happen again. If it does, they’ll see the truth, and I won’t have any power to keep you.” His powerful neck convulsed as he swallowed. “We’re fucked, Nila Weaver. Well and truly fucked.

Fuck, stop thinking about that. I was hard enough to kill someone with the weapon in my trousers;

Her gaze dropped to my lips, anxiousness and passion pinking her cheeks. “Enough talking. Kiss me.” I groaned. I’d never hear the command ‘kiss me’ again without wanting to devour her.

Nila snapped, “Have you forgotten my promise so soon, Mr. Hawk?” The table froze; men looked from the skinny seamstress to their leather-jacketed leader. Cut tensed. “No, I haven’t forgotten.” “I meant what I said,” Nila growled. “I will kill you. You can pretend you’re kind and keep me in good health, but I will never forget what you’ve done.” I stood up, slapping my palms loudly on the table. “Ms. Weaver!” Her head snapped in my direction, her dark eyes blazing. “Was I talking to you? You’re as bad as he is. I have a good mind to kill you, too.