004.

Amelia's POV

The biggest one, a real meathead with knuckles that dragged on the ground, grabbed me from behind. His arm was like a steel bar across my chest, squeezing the air right out of me. I let out a gasp that was more squeak than a scream.

“Logan!” I choked out.

But Logan was already moving. He didn’t tense up like a normal person would. He just… moved with a sexy, arrogant grace. I can't believe I could still point that out in the face of danger. It was this subtle drop of his shoulders, a quiet sigh like he was annoyed he had to take out the trash. The two other creeps lunged for him.

Logan moved faster than anything I’d ever seen. He ducked under a swing that should have taken his head off, came up inside the guy’s guard and drove his fist into the dude’s ribs.

I heard a sickening crack. The werewolf...yeah, no doubt now...yelped and went down hard, not getting up.

The second one came at him with claws out and Logan caught his wrist, twisted it with another awful crunch and slammed his elbow into the guy’s face. He dropped like a sack of rocks.

It took all of three seconds.

Then those calm, intense eyes locked onto the guy holding me. The big guy’s grip loosened. I could feel him trembling.

Logan took one step forward and that was all it took. The guy shoved me away so hard I stumbled, throwing his hands up in surrender.

Logan closed the distance and hit him once, clean and efficient so quickly. The guy’s eyes rolled back, and he joined his buddies on the pavement.

I stood there, shaking, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.

Logan stood over the bodies, not even winded. He knelt down, his hands quickly patting down their pockets. He pulled something small and dark from one of them...a wallet? A badge?...and tucked it into his own jacket before I could get a good look.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, my voice shaky. “Who the hell were they? And who the hell are you?”

He finally looked at me, his expression unreadable.

“Just some low-life street rogues. Nothing to worry about now.”

“Low-life street rogues?” I choked out a laugh. “They looked like professional monster muscles to me! And they knew you!”

“They thought they did,” he said, his voice low and steady. He walked over to me, his presence immediately making the scary, dark street feel a little safer. “Come on. The motel’s just there. Let’s get you inside.”

My brain was screaming questions but my body was just screaming, full stop. And part of that screaming was… something else. Something I hadn’t felt in years.

Watching him move like that, all that quiet power and control… it did things to me. Stupid, reckless, horny things. The rebellion, the fear, the raw adrenaline...it all mixed together into one potent cocktail that was way stronger than “The Regret.”

We got to his room and he locked the door behind us and turned, about to say something.

I didn’t let him.

All that pent-up emotions and rebellion exploded. I grabbed the front of his jacket, stood on my toes and crushed my mouth to his.

He froze.. completely rigid. Not kissing me back, not pushing me away.. just a statue.

Oh, god. Shame washed over me, cold and horrible. I pulled back, my face flaming, but my body burning hotter.

I swear there has to be some sort of aphrodisiac in that drink I had, because there's no way I'm feeling this needy for a man I met for the first time all on my own.

“I... I am so sorry. That was so stupid. I don’t know what I was...”

His hand came up and cupped the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. He didn’t say a word. He just looked into my eyes for a heartbeat, his gaze dark and hungry and then he pulled me close. "Do that again, Wildcat" he murmured, his voice so dark, so deep, I couldn't have resisted something like that ever.

I stood on my toes, fingers curling against his shoulders as I kissed him again, this time softer, uncertain. His fingers fisted against my hair, pulling me closer as he took the lead, kissing me harder, rougher, like he'd been starved in every literal sense.

This kiss was deep and possessive and so fucking skilled my knees actually buckled.

His other arm slid around my waist, holding me up against him as he feasted on my face. Another moan slipped and I grabbed his arm, desperate to hold onto something as I melted into him.

Then he pulled back enough to study my flushed face. His gaze flickering from my face, to where my fingers clung to his arm, then back to my face.

I was gasping, breathing hard, my nails digging into his arm; a desperate attempt to stop myself from pulling him right back to me.

His eyes burned into mine, as if he couldn't understand what he was seeing... And then ever so slowly, a ghost of a smirk curled up at the corner of his lips.

My body pressed into his instinctively and he sulked in a sharp breath, his arm tightening around my waist.

"Are you sure you want this, Wildcat? Because this... Whatever this is, if we don't stop now, I won't stop until I've had every single inch of you" He murmured roughly, his gaze devoid of any playfulness that was there a second ago.

A shiver crawled up my spine, a whimper almost slipping out, and it wasn't from fear. I pressed tighter into him, nodding once.

"Words, Wildcat. I want your words" he grumbled dangerously.

"I want this. I want you to fuck me" the words spilled without hesitation. The smirk returned as he tilted my head until he had me exactly where he wanted, then he kissed me, harder, desperately, like he couldn't get enough.

One of his hands found my breast, cupping it through my shirt, his thumb brushing over my nipple until it was a hard peak and a moan ripped from my throat directly into his mouth.

One minute, his hand was everywhere, kneading, touching, dragging out pleasure moans from my lips and the next minute my shirt was a mess of fabric and buttons on the ground.

His jacket hit the floor as he led me towards the bed, still kissing me like his entire existence depended on that one kiss. Somehow amidst the chaos kiss, before my back hit the bed, I was able to yank his t-shirt over his head.

And oh, sweet mercy.

His chest was a work of art.. all hard planes of muscle, covered in intricate black and red tattoos that coiled over his shoulders and down his arms.

I ran my hands over them, feeling the powerful heat of his skin. I was so wet it was embarrassing.

He broke the kiss, then slowly trailed his lips down my neck, leaving hot flames behind with every drag of his lips. I was trying hard not to squirm, my body arching towards him in desperate plea for more.

And when his tongue finally flicked out to taste my nipple, my body jerked so hard in pleasure, but he didn't stop there. His mouth latched onto a hardened peak, tongue circling expertly as he sucked hard.

My fingers curled hard around the sheets as several moans poured out of my lips. Damian never made me feel this way.

He's never shown me what it feels like to feel actual pleasure and maybe that's what makes this feel so overwhelming.

I was hyper aware of his hand trailing down towards my wetness but I couldn't do anything right then. Not with his legs between mine, prying the pair apart, and keeping me exactly where he wanted.

A broken moan slipped when his thumb found my bare clit, circling hard as he took my second nipple into his mouth, sucking me so hard until I was a trembling mess of moans, and wetness beneath him.

Then I felt it, the tingling sensation pooling in my stomach. My breath quickened, my body twitching as my lips parted into a soundless scream. But just before I shattered, he stopped.

He fucking stopped.

A desperate whine broke out of my lips as my questioning gaze met his dark ones. The familiar dangerous smirk curled up his lips, but I was too fired to think at that moment.

So I arched up against him, my sensitive breasts pressing against his hard chest, as I murmured "Please..."

"Patience, Wildcat... You're mine tonight, and I intend to claim every fucking inch of you until there's no part of you that doesn't recognize my touch" he murmured amidst the kisses he trailed down my body until he stopped to stare at the most sensitive part of me. Down there.