Soon she was naked, while he still wore pants and his dress shirt though it was untucked and unbuttoned.
Cessie’s shoulders relaxed, even as she raised her chin. He unbuttoned one cuff as his gaze slid down her body.
“If you’re going to take forever, I’m going to take care of this myself.” She marched toward the bedroom and the little rose clit sucker stuffed in an en-suite bathroom drawer because she usedit in the shower. He waited for her to pass him before he reached out and back to grab her arm, jerking her to a halt.
He spun her around and forced her back against the wall.
She exhaled when her back hit the wall. It might have been in reaction to the movement, but that noise sounded a lot like a sigh of relief.
Relief that he’d taken control?
God, he wanted to tell her to kneel, or to bend her over the back of the couch and spank her, but as much as he thought she needed it, and knew he needed it, something stopped him. They’d always kept BDSM strictly in the club, even after they moved in together several months ago.
So instead, he kissed her. Not soft and sweet, because that was what neither of them needed right now. He devoured her, forcing her to yield to him.
And when kissing wasn’t enough, he slid down her body, stopping only to suck and bite her nipples, before kneeling and hooking one of her legs over his shoulder so he could taste her pussy.
He licked and sucked like she belonged to him. Because she did.
Once she’d come on his tongue, they retreated to the bedroom. She sucked his cock, but he flipped her onto her hands and knees and fucked her from behind to finish. Then he got her off with his fingers on her clit and his mouth on her nipples while he recovered. After this second climax, he climbed between her pretty thighs. The anger that had driven them was gone, leading to sweet, slow face-to-face sex.
And when it was over and her breathing had evened out in sleep, he stared at the ceiling. The sex had been great, but there was still a sinking feeling in his gut.
Maybe they’d be okay. Maybe they’d make it.
But he couldn’t help but wonder if loving her was like loving Icarus. She was pushing herself to fly so fast and so high that any minute now her wings would burn away and she’d fall.
CHAPTER 3
Four Months Before the Cage
Leon sat on the floor of the bathroom, leaning against the shower wall, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Cessie sat beside him, breathing still choppy as if she’d been crying, though her eyes were dry.
Leon lifted the ice pack he was holding against her shoulder and neck away, unfolding the towel. It was no longer cold.
“I’ll get another one.”
He started to rise, but she shook her head. Then she bent toward, elbows on her knees, face buried in her hands.
Leon’s heart was still hammering, even though it had been nearly an hour since she’d stumbled into the condo, her voice shaking as she told him what had happened.
"You could have died, Cessie.”
“I could have killed someone.”
“Why were you driving? You always fly.”
Her shoulders tightened, and that was all he needed.
“Fuck, Cessie, did you drive because you couldn’t afford a plane ticket?”
She didn’t say anything.
“So that’s where we are. You won’t even tell me when you need help buying a cheap Southwest flight to Vegas? Instead, you drive there after four days being on call, and then drive back in the middle of the night, on no sleep.”
She clenched her hands together into one fist but didn’t answer.
“And then, surprise fucking surprise, you fall asleep on the 10 and nearly kill yourself.”
