Crash Into Me - L.A. Fiore

Preface

My hands wouldn’t come clean. Scrubbing the blood off, it just smeared. Tears pooled, but my anger was stronger, rage burned through me. My hands were raw, but still, I saw the blood.

“Molly.”

“It won’t come off.”

His hand covered mine, as he turned off the water. “I have to get it off.”

“Molly.”

I turned to him, then pushed him away from me. The screaming in my head spilled from my mouth and echoed around the bathroom. He made no move to stop me when I used him to let the frustration and pain out. I stumbled back, hitting the wall. Before I slid down it, he was there…holding me up. His hand curled around my chin. “Tell me what you need, Molly.”

I held his intense stare, my breathing coming in hard pants, the anger giving way to the pain. I fisted his hair, pulled his mouth to mine. He didn’t respond, at first, until I begged against his lips. “Please.”

Twisting my hair around his hand, he yanked my head back, those eyes I loved stared back, with concern and heat, before his mouth slammed down on mine. I clawed at his clothes, but his arm banded around my waist, holding me to him, as he consumed me with just his kiss. My muscles loosened, my body giving in to him. He pulled at my jeans, dragging them and my panties down my legs, my tee and bra followed. He turned the shower on, stripped, then pulled me under the spray, before pressing me against the wall. His hand moved down my body, his fingers played with me. His mouth replaced his fingers.

“Oh god.” I fisted his hair, spread my legs wider, and moved my hips to take him deeper. His fingers dug into my ass, as he brought me swiftly to orgasm, before he stood, turned me to the wall and ran his hand up my back and between my shoulder blades. He pressed down, bending me at the waist. He placed my hands on the wall and pushed my legs apart. In the next breath, he was slamming into me.

“Yes!” I scream.

He wasn’t gentle. I didn’t want gentle. “Harder,” I begged.

He fucked me almost brutally; his hand fisted my hair, pulling my head back, again, for his ruthless kiss. I came so hard it brought new tears to my eyes. He broke the kiss, our gazes locked. New tears fell. “If it was you,” I said brokenly.

His voice was a harsh whisper. “It wasn’t me.”

He pulled out of me, drew me against him and held me, as I broke down. Three months ago, I didn’t know him, and now I wouldn’t survive the loss of him.

One

It was cold, the temperatures were still dropping in the evenings, but the nights were getting shorter. She knew it wasn’t safe to run through Central Park at this hour, but she’d missed her run that morning and needed to work off the alcohol she’d consumed at the reception.

Her muscles felt good; the sweat rolling down her back was welcomed. She hadn’t been in the city for long; work had brought her here. She wasn’t sure she’d adjust to city life, but she had. She loved everything: the hustle and bustle, the shops, the culture, and the people. She’d been interviewed; sure, it was an off the beaten path online publication and the journalist was more interested in hearing about her boss, but the interview had been conducted over tea at The Plaza.

When her assignment was over, she was seriously thinking about staying. An acquaintance set her up with a potential interview. Just thinking about it, more specifically, the man she’d be working with…Not only was he one of the most prominent men in the world, he was also the sexiest man she’d ever seen. It was unlikely she’d get the job; there were far more experienced publicists, but if she did, she was taking it.

Her footfalls were the only sound, as she jogged along the path. She didn’t listen to music; she wanted to be alert, so it was a shock when strong arms wrapped around her waist. She screamed, but it was cut short by the hand that covered her mouth. She tried to flail her arms, tried to get traction like she’d been taught in her self-defense classes, but she couldn’t budge her attacker. He dragged her behind a tree and slammed her up against it. Her head hit hard, her vision turning blurry. She couldn’t see his face; he was shrouded in shadows,