“If that’s true, then why did I do it?”
I lift my chin. “You want to know if I’ll stay, if I’ll fight for this—whatever this is between us.”
Ghost’s lips curl into something between a smile and a snarl, his breath warm against my face as he leans even closer, the bars barely keeping us apart. “And what’s the verdict?” he asks. “Are you going to stay and admit that you feel something for me? Or are you going to run like you always do?”
“Fuck you, Ghost.”
I spin on my heel and barely take a step before a hand shoots out through the bars, gripping my throat with brutal precision. With great force, he jerks me toward him, slamming my back against the cold, unyielding metal. The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and for a moment, all I can focus on is the searing pressure of his fingers around my throat.
His face is mere inches from mine as he tightens his grip, squeezing until I gasp from pain. “Say it again,” he growls, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrates through my body. “Say it, Geneva. I fucking dare you.”
My pulse hammers against his palm. The heat of his body bleeds through the steel bars separating us, seeping into my back. None of that stops my anger from surging to the forefront and drowning out the instinct to be afraid.
“Fuck you,” I say on a wheeze.
“Thank you for the invitation, love.”
Ghost snakes his free hand under my shirt, his palm hot against my stomach, his touch firm. My skin comes to life when he cups my breast, tugging at the nipple, and I press my lips together to keep from moaning. It’s increasingly harder to act unaffected when his fingers expertly tease my sensitive skin, squeezing gently, and then more firmly, as if testing my reactions.
Ghost loosens his hold on my throat just enough for me to draw a shallow breath. Then he tightens it again, causing a fresh wave of adrenaline to sweep through me. The heat he ignited with his touch coils low in my stomach, a betrayal of my own traitorous desires.
“Let go of me,” I wheeze.
When he doesn’t listen, I reach up with both hands and yank on his wrist. It’s like trying to move steel. In response, he grips my throat harder.
His breath is warm against my cheek. “You came to me. Now you’ll come for me.”
I rail against his hold, unable to admit how much I want his touch. How much I want him. My struggle results in me gasping, and my hair coming loose from its messy bun. Ghost gently runs his fingers through the strands, with the same hand that he used to murder someone last night.
“You’re so fucking beautiful it kills me,” he whispers, his voice a mixture of anger and awe.
Ghost shoves his hand under the hem of my skirt before he circles the entrance of my pussy, his fingers coming away drenched. Then he brings them to my clit, stroking me slowly, over and over.
I can’t breathe and my wild thrashing subsides. Immediately, he releases his grip on my throat, and the air rushes into my lungs. My knees buckle, but Ghost is there, holding me up by the throat, his other hand gripping my pussy.
“You’re a fucking mess, aren’t you, Doc?”
I shake my head in what looks like a silent plea for him to stop, but it’s really me unable to form coherent words. And because I’m enjoying what he’s doing to me. I just won’t admit it.
“I love watching you fight me,” he says. “It’s fucking delicious to watch.”
“You’re sick.”
“And you’re wet.”
He thrusts a finger inside my pussy, and my body tightens at the sensual invasion. When he inserts two more, I can’t hold back the moan that escapes my lips. He uses his thumb to circle my clit, while curling his fingers inside me, and I sag in his embrace, unable to take what he’s doing to me.
And he doesn’t stop.
Ghost keeps fucking me with his fingers, the strokes hard and fast. I bite my lip to keep from crying out. His fingers are relentless, stroking and demanding, driving me higher and higher. I’m getting close.
“Stop,” I say, the lie a mere whisper.
Ghost chuckles. “Your pussy is saying otherwise, Geneva.”
He releases his grip on my throat to slide his hand up to grip my jaw, forcing me to look back at him. “Are you finally ready to stop lying about us? About my feelings for you?”
I shake my head. With a growl he finger fucks me until I’m moving with him, following the punishing rhythm he’s set. He knows exactly how to touch me, how to bring me right to the edge.
Then he stops.
I whimper at the loss, the ache excruciating. He slides his hands away from me and steps back, putting space between us. I sag against the bars, the adrenaline draining away, leaving me weak and shaky. I can’t look at him yet. Not after what just happened.
After gathering my composure, I walk over to the opposite wall, needing to lean on it for support. And trying to put as much distance between us as possible.
“Look at me,” he says. When I shake my head, he growls. “Look. At. Me.”
I lift my head, narrowing my eyes at him. In return, Ghost studies me, his gaze roving over every inch of my body, lingering on the places where his hands had just been.
“I need to know if you’re running or willing,” he says.
I stiffen.
He steps closer, gripping the bars once more. “Are you willing to risk everything to be with me?”
I stare at him, unable to speak, my mind reeling.
“I want a fucking answer, Geneva.”
CHAPTER 47
GHOST
Geneva stares at me with a bewildered expression, lust making her eyes bright. “Why did you do that to me?”
“Because you needed to be taught a lesson.”
Her expression shifts, anger flashing across her face. “Which is?”
“Actions have consequences, Doc. You think you can lie to me and get away with it?” I shake my head. “I know you have feelings for me. Just fucking say it.”
“You don’t deserve my answer,” she snaps.
“Don’t I? Remember that the next time you make yourself come, knowing it should’ve been me.”
Her eyes narrow to little more than slits. She opens her mouth to respond and clamps it shut. Then something slides across her features, giving her a fierce expression.
She lifts her chin in pure defiance, right before she hikes up her skirt. I watch her, mesmerized, as she reaches down and begins to stroke herself.
“Fuck,” I growl, the word ripped from my throat.
She watches me with those intense eyes, her movements enticing. Then she widens her legs, and I can see her slick pussy, glistening with wetness. My mouth waters. I need to taste her.
“That’s right,” she murmurs, her voice sultry. Lusty. “It’s my hand. Not yours.”
The words are like a blow, hitting me in the chest. She’s going to punish me for denying her an orgasm. But more importantly, for daring her to acknowledge her feelings.
“Geneva,” I whisper, the word a warning.
Her hand moves faster, the rhythm frantic, along with her hips as they seek out her touch. I’m hypnotized, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight of Geneva pleasuring herself.
“Yes,” she moans.
I grip the bars, my knuckles whitening, and grit my teeth. I can’t fucking take it. But I can’t tell her to stop.
“Ghost, I’m coming,” she says, her voice a broken gasp.