SWNOVELS Chapter 10
Allison found herself pinned against the wide, cold table, the chill seeping into her skin as her vision swirled in a dizzying fog.
“You…” She barely managed to speak before her words were swallowed by the fierce pressure of Kellan’s lips.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and brushed his fingers across her skin, sending an electric shock up her spine.
The sensation was not only searing, but unforgettable.
“Slower,” Allison whispered, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her hand moved to the sharp contours of his waist, her fingers meeting the hardness beneath.
He was all fire and steel, impressive in every way, but he had no sense of tenderness.
But Kellan wasn't listening.
His body moved with a primal urgency, like a predator savoring its rare prey.
Moments ago, they had pointed their guns at each other's vital organs, but now they were locked in a dangerous rhythm, fueled by something that consumed them far more than hatred.
"Don't move!"
His voice, rough and deep, filled the air.
His ragged breathing came in short bursts, and that command alone was intense enough to make anyone's blood run hot.
But Allison wasn't just anyone.
Orders never sat well with her.
With a quick movement, he wrapped his arms around her neck tighter and placed his other hand on her shoulder, switching positions.
She wasn’t one to let anyone feel in control.
Kellan hit the table with a thud, a groan escaping his lips as he opened his eyes.
The coldness in his gaze had melted into something more confusing: confusion.
Allison, who was now straddling him, brushed the strands of hair from her flushed face, her expression one of confidence that left no room for doubt.
Her chest heaved with the effort of the moment, but her eyes, ever unyielding, remained fixed on his.
"I'll be in charge!"
Her fingers danced from his throat down the length of his torso, tracing the chiseled muscles beneath her fingertips, each one hard and defined as marble.
Kellan's face was partially hidden by shadows, but his body was a sculptor's dream: lean, powerful, a perfect V-shaped masterpiece.
They were both using each other, but at the moment it didn't feel like a loss.
She leaned in and kissed him again, her hands moving methodically to unbutton his shirt.
Frustration mounting, she gave up on patience and ripped at the fabric, her palms resting on the warmth of his chest.
Kellan, who always held the reins, had never experienced someone turning the tables like that.
Instead of resisting, though, he let it happen.
Still, his hands clung to her waist as if he could somehow make her a part of him.
Her silhouette was sculpted against the dim light like an artist's muse, each movement bringing them closer to chaos with every second.
Allison tilted her head and kissed him gently from his neck to his cheek, before placing her lips on those deep, magnetic eyes.
The rest of the night blurred into fragments in her mind.
All she remembered was the feeling of being caught up in a violent storm, tossed about by the waves.
At one point, she snapped back to reality for a fleeting second, and all she could focus on was the starlight dancing in her eyes.
"What are you doing?" he heard himself ask.
"The effects of the drugs have not worn off yet.
"
"Are you serious? What are you, an animal? And stop biting me.
.
.
not there, you idiot!"
The night continued in a whirlwind of desire and passion.
When she finally woke up, Allison felt something hard digging into her side.
With difficulty, she reached out and her fingers curled around the cold silver metal of a gun.
He was just inches away from the dagger that had once been at his waist; danger had been his silent witness all night.
She forced herself to sit up, her eyes drifting to the intricate designs on the ceiling, trying to focus.
For a moment, her thoughts spun like a broken record, unable to hold on to anything solid.
The dimly lit room, barely illuminated by the thin rays of light that filtered through the heavy curtains, looked like a battlefield.
The man beside her was still lost in sleep, his smooth, muscular back rising and falling with his steady breathing.
Allison's head was foggy and her body ached.
She stood up and dug her toes into the plush carpet, leaning against the back of the couch.
Her legs were weak, shaking from the aftermath of what could only be described as a war between their bodies.
There was chaos everywhere.
A broken vase, petals scattered on the floor, chairs knocked over in the frenzy and condoms abandoned near the bed.
The trail of chaos from the floor to the windowsill marked the wild escapades of the night before.
She blinked, reality settling in like a splash of cold water.
It hadn’t been a fever dream, it had all been real.
She muttered to herself, “He’s a real savage!” She didn’t need a mirror to see the evidence.
Bruises, bite marks, and teeth marks dotted her waist in angry purples and reds, painting a picture of the ferocity of the night before.
Even her thighs were a mess of violent colors.
"Where the hell did he come from?" she wondered out loud, her mind toying with the absurd idea of smothering him with a pillow, just to see if she could get away with it.
The man, still under the influence of the drug, lay unconscious with his face buried in the pillow.
On his back were the red scratches from the woman's nails, a testament to the night they had spent together.
Allison poured herself a glass of water, the coolness restoring her clarity as she contemplated what to do with it.