“Yes.”
I want to protest his clipped answers, but I notice something.
“We made it!” I exclaim, jumping around and pointing toward the dirt road that finally appears between the old trees.
“You’ll break an ankle, love,” he says, but that vicious smile touches his eyes too, and I know he’s enjoying it.
“You can send our location now.”
“Already sent when I ended the call.” Looking down at his phone, he swipes a few times. “Updated,” he confirms.
“Perfect. Then they’ll come get us.” I turn to him, throwing my arms around his neck. “And you’ll be free of me, killer-boy,” I whisper
He wraps one hand around my middle, the other firmly gripping my neck, fingers tangled in my hair, and he holds me to him like the world might get swept from under our feet.
“Now, why would I want that?”
There it goes again—my breath stalling in my chest, tugging at my ribs to free itself.
“Kiss me . . .” I whisper.
And he does.
Soft and slow, hard and fast, hungrily and lazily, all at once. I swear the sun has changed position while he feasted on me and I reveled in him. Days could pass and I would be happy right here, lips raw and awfully parched.
We don’t come up for air when the silence breaks, a rumble vibrating in the distance. We indulge until the last moment, when the engine disturbs the forest around us and eyes threaten to fall on us.
With great reluctance, he rips his lips off of mine, releasing me without stepping away.
Even if he stops looking at me like he is now, with silent, earth-trembling intensity, I’ll still feel it deep in the fibers of my muscles, tightening around my bones, and stealing every ounce of breath away.
Tires skid on the gravel road. His gaze stays firm on mine. Car doors slam shut. Our heartbeats remain in sync. Steps crunch on the gravel. Our breaths entangle tightly.
“You scare me, Scarlet.”
My lips part and surprise rushes out of me, throwing my world into an uncontrollable rotation. His words flow through the wind, and I want to chase them back. Make sure I heard them right and that they weren’t a beautiful breeze sweeping by.
“Pierce!” a rough, deep voice booms, shaking the trees.
Carter sighs, though it looks more like he’s preparing himself. “Shall we?”
I nod, and we both turn and head straight toward the two men standing by the flat gray SUV—Maddox Severin and Vincent Sinclair.
“I thought Finnigan was coming,” Carter says as we reach them.
“He’s with Evelyn and Maya,” Maddox answers.
“Fair enough.” He turns to me. “I believe you know Scarlet Brasa-Glass.”
“Gentlemen.”
They both nod at me, and Maddox moves to open the back door, politely showing me in. For such a brutal, scarred, and slightly terrifying man, he gives an oddly calm vibe. I bet he could wring my neck in one slight move with that gigantic hand of his, though.
I look at Carter, and when he nods, I climb into the backseat, relaxing into it when he enters on the other side, the other two following at the front.
“Tell me everything that happened,” Carter almost orders.
I catch Vincent glancing toward me before he and Maddox exchange looks.
