Countdown

I arched off the bed with a soft scream. "Oh!"

"Do you want me, Kira?" he breathed into my ear.

I just nodded, barely able to speak. Barely able to think. "Yes … now. Please!"

His smile grew. "No, not quite yet."

I raked my hands through his dark hair as he traced his mouth lower on my body, my breasts, my stomach. He nudged my legs farther apart so I was fully exposed to him. And then I felt his tongue against me while his fingers still moved deep within.

That did it.

My world exploded-fell apart completely as I came over and over, screaming his name, and I reached behind me to grab on to something, anything. When I didn't think I could take it a moment longer, when the pleasure was too intense, I felt his mouth on mine again, kissing me deeper and harder than before.

He entered me then, slowly stretching me to accommodate his width. I spread my legs farther and grasped at his firm ass as he began to pump in and out of me.

Oh, God, it was too much. He felt so good. Nothing had ever felt this good in my life.

"Kira, oh, Kira…" My name was hardly recognizable as it left his lips, slurred with passion and hard-edged lust.

The dam of whatever self-restraint he had broke, and he began to lose control. Each thrust deepened and was more forceful-Rogan was a man who had been isolated in prison and had not known physical contact in years, and I felt the dark need begin to overwhelm him.

It made me realize how lonely I'd been, too. When I was with Rogan, I wasn't lonely anymore. We were in this together, just the two of us, and we would find our way out. Somehow.

I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist and I stared up into his eyes, now glazed with desire. He felt so good, so incredibly good as I ran my hands up and down his hard, muscled back and arched again, each thrust of his body bringing with it a wave of pleasure. I never wanted this to end-I wanted him inside me forever.

But then with a hoarse cry and a last deep thrust of his hips he collapsed on top of me. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close until his breathing came back to normal and his mouth found mine again and he kissed me over and over.

We gazed at each other for a long time as we lay side by side in the warm, comfortable four-poster bed. I traced the scar on his cheek with the tip of my finger, and then followed that with a line of kisses along it that led back to his lips.

"I'm very glad you're my partner," he murmured in my ear. "I think I'd hate to have a reward level like this with some guy named Biff."

I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling too widely at that. "You do realize I only had sex with you because now I know you're really rich."

He laughed, a rich sound deep in his throat. "I figured as much."

"We're getting out of this, Rogan. You and me. We're going to win this."

He kissed me, pulled me closer, and I wanted him again so very badly.

"And with Kira and Rogan enjoying the afterglow of their mid-Countdown tryst, we hope that you enjoyed the bonus footage, subscribers."

I felt cold. "What was that?"

Rogan pulled the sheets up to cover my nakedness, his gaze wildly scanning the room. "I didn't see any cameras. I swear I didn't."

I clutched the sheets against me and my heart began to thud even harder. "Neither did I."

The door opened and five men in white coats marched in. Jonathan came in last.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said. "But the reward level is officially over."

What had just happened with Rogan had been broadcast to the subscribers? Oh, my God. The thought made me sick.

"You said that I'd have privacy," I managed as my face grew warm with embarrassment and anger. "It was part of the reward."

His expression was grim. "You must know by now that I'm a liar, Kira. There is no privacy in this game. Get dressed."

He nodded at one of the men, who then threw a pile of clothes at us. But they weren't the clothes I had before: cargo pants, tank top, and my stolen red sneakers. These clothes were new and black, with black boots that hit the floor by the bed.

"You have three minutes," Jonathan said. Then he turned around and left the room.

"Fuck," Rogan said under his breath. "Kira, I'm sorry. I didn't see any cameras. I honestly thought we were alone. Stupid of me."

"How do we get out of this? You created this show. How does a competitor get off it?"

His mouth straightened into a thin line and he slid his hand into my hair. "Used to be just by losing, but now there are only two ways off the show: winning or dying."

He swung out of the bed and grabbed at the new clothing. He pulled on a pair of black pants and slid a black shirt over his head. The clothes fit tightly against his body, almost like a costume. He sat on the edge of the bed and laced up the boots.

"You look like a superhero," I said.

"If you say so." He met my eyes, then leaned over to snatch the rest of the clothes off the floor. He threw them to me.

I turned the pieces over in my hand. "You've got to be kidding me."

"You'll look like a superhero, too."

As if things couldn't get worse. "Yeah, a slutty superhero."

He raised an eyebrow. "What the subscribers want, the subscribers get."

"Christ."

My costume consisted of a pair of thong panties. A skimpy bra. A short pleated skirt that barely covered my ass. A tight long-sleeved shirt, low-cut in the front, thigh-high stockings, and knee-high combat boots.

All black.

Since my other choice of outfit at the moment seemed to be bedsheets, I slowly put on the clothes.

Rogan eyed me when I was done. "It's wrong that I think that outfit's hot, right?"

I glared at him. "This is no time for jokes."

He was fighting to keep a grin off his face. "You'd be beautiful no matter what those bastards made you wear."

Then he bent over and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on to him tightly.

"We're in this together," he whispered against my lips. "Don't ever forget that."

I kissed him again. "Easy for you to say. You're not wearing the thong."

The door opened again and Jonathan appeared. "Rogan, we're going to have you wait for a bit. Kira, I'm going to need you to come with me."

"Why?" I asked warily.

"Because somebody wants to meet you."

I chewed my bottom lip. "Not really in the mood to meet anybody right now."

"That's too bad. Gareth, however, doesn't grant an audience to just anyone. Consider it a great privilege afforded to no one else."

Rogan tensed and he grabbed my hand. "I'm coming with her."

"No," Jonathan said, and he had his remote control out. "You're not."

He pressed a button and Rogan cried out in pain before he fell to the floor in a heap.

I collapsed beside him and touched his face to assure myself he was only unconscious.

I glared up at Jonathan. "I can't believe I ever trusted you."

His face was expressionless. "If I told you I was truly sorry for all of this, would you believe me?"

"No."

"Then it is pointless for me to say anything at all. Come with me. Don't put up a fight."

I decided to put up a fight just for the hell of it. But after a few moments the men in white coats easily managed to restrain me, and dragged me kicking and screaming from the room.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gareth Ellis sat in a large white room that had a small table in the middle. It reminded me of a sterilized prisoner interrogation room, like the ones I'd seen in my parents' DVD collection of old movies. The men in white coats shoved me into the room and slammed the door behind me.

Gareth, unlike the room, was all in black. I restrained myself from rolling my eyes at the appropriateness of that color. After all, he was the bad guy in this piece, right? He must have personally chosen our new Countdown uniforms. I tried to stop myself from pulling the skirt down to cover the bared tops of my thighs.