Deadly Game
The heat radiating off him was like a furnace, a intoxicating mix of feverish sweat, rain, and raw, untamed dominance.
"Put a bullet in me, Ari," he whispered, his right hand coming up to grip the slide of my gun, his palm wrapping over the cold metal, forcing the barrel deeper into his own flesh. His dark eyes burned into mine, completely unbothered by the threat of death. "Because unless you kill me, you are going to tell me who the hell is standing in front of me."
My breath hitched, my knuckles turning white against the grip of the firearm. I could feel the rapid, heavy thudding of his heart through the steel slide of the gun. He was mad. Fully, utterly mad.