CORA

Ismiled inanely at the media crew, pretending to laugh at yet another not-funny joke the journalist in front of me made and didn’t pretend to look for Valentine.

Not here. Still.

Or again. But Coach was, leaning his gray headed frame against the bar, looking completely out of place in jeans, a dark blue shirt and scowl that matched no one else in the club.

I couldn’t work out what was worse: the fact that Coach was left on babysitting duty for the night, or that after all the intimacy and show ponying that we shared earlier in the afternoon, Valentine stood me up.

That’s what you get for falling for your not-fling of two days, Cora.

The little voice in the back of my head promised me that I was insane for getting involved in the workplace romance—sexmance?—that I swore I never would in the first place. And of all Chimeras, I’d chosen Valentine. Or rather, he had chosen me.

I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted by that last or not, but here we were and… It appeared that I had chosen him right back.

More than chosen for the way that I ignored the media crew I had, somewhat stupidly, agreed to drinks with after my little performance outside the Chimera’s office this afternoon. Stupid, because Valentine had been in my space at the time and my brain refused to function correctly around him.

But also because I was supposed to be picking the brain of this group for why they had targeted the Chimeras when they had left the team alone for so long. Pure boredom? Collusion on a slow print week? I didn’t understand it when the woman made no statement and all we had was Valentine escorting a woman, albeit battered, from the club. This club, as it happened.

I placed my drink back on the table and rose.

“Not thirsty?” Peatie, my usually-tame media spy, appeared at my side on cue. “Atmosphere’s a bit low for now. Should be pumping later!”

So was he—jacked up on something. The dilated pupils gave it away if his loud voice and hyper attitude didn’t.

I shrugged, needing to get away from him and this afternoon’s bad choices as soon as I could. “Not right now, Peatie,” I muttered, pushing forward, between him and another journalist who watched me thoughtfully. A hand landed on my arm as I made my escape, halting me mid step.

I froze and looked back, pasting a fake smile across my face. “I’m just headed for the loo.”

“Sure. But you’re the girl who gave the speech this afternoon. That took some balls. Kudos to you.” He watched me carefully.

I watched him, back and very slowly extracted my arm. “Thanks.”

Peatie speed talked all the way to the bar where I left him, still chattering to Coach who looked like he was ready to rip[ me a new one. Even I wasn’t sure if Peatie knew the difference between Coach and me at this point.

“Where’s Valentine?” I mouthed to Coach, glancing over my shoulder as I scanned the club that was still sparsely enough populated that a giant hockey player couldn’t hide in the population.

I lied. Valentine would never hide in this crowd, or any other.

“No fucking idea,” Coach yelled in a moment of silence right between songs.

I closed my eyes and died a little death right on the spot. With my eyes still closed I turned around, hand headed for the toilets. One step and I ran smack into a warm, hard body, bumping my nose on what felt like a brick wall.

“Fu–ow,” I muttered. “Sorry.” I opened my eyes and sidestepped the blackout that refused to let me around.

“Cora. Where are you going?” An amused voice held me prisoner.

No wait, that was his hands grazing my hips.

“Uh. I was going to powder my….something?” I peeked up at Valentine through my lashes, willing myself not to cower before him.

At work, I wore work makeup. I wore a work suit and, apart from my stint donning his jersey, I wore only Chimera appropriate clothing.

Right now, nothing about me was appropriate whatsoever. And I made that choice knowingly and willing when I stepped outside my door.

Suddenly, the oversized blonde curls, the cropped blue leather jacket zipped to my bust and my ice blue beaded mini dress with the deep v to my navel seemed like a really, really stupid idea.

Or maybe, from the way he surveyed my body in the slowest once over in history, possibly the most dangerous one.

“Do you really need to powder anything, Cora, or were you escaping?” Valentine asked in a low tone, though he blocked my path to the toilets.

“Escaping?” I squeaked my confession like a spring church mouse. “Still escaping,” I added hopefully in a more regular voice.

“No chance, Butterfly.”

His hand folded around my blue leather covered elbow, towing me back to the bar. Ward stood alone, no Peatie in sight, blessedly.

“Where’d your sidekick go?” I asked as Valentine released my arm and my voice returned to its usual volume.

Coach’s gaze slid between us, narrowing. “You ‘friend’ wandered off, talking to a chair.”

I frowned. “I don’t see a chair.”

Coach shrugged. “Neither could he.”

“That kinda night already, huh?” Valentine squeezed my arm again, and placed a bottle of water in front of me.

I tested the lid, smiling when I found it still screwed tight and uncracked. “Thank you.” I beamed at him.

“Wherever it takes. Who was your friend?” he asked curiously. “You have…interesting taste?”

I shrugged. “My media spy. Usually he feeds me interesting information but today he’s been a feature article in himself.” Peatie’s hangover in the morning would be of epic proportions. I didn’t envy the tomorrow version of himself, and I doubted he would either, if he had two brain cells that would rub together right now.

The club slowly filled, the Chimeras’ coach and Valentine blessedly creating a barrier around me.

“I think I’m supposed to be socializing,” I yawned, waving for a bartender.

Valentine’s frown was audible from where he stood a few feet back in an obvious attempt not to touch me in front of his coach. “I thought you weren’t drinking tonight.”

There was no judgement in his tone, simply a question, about my own judgement or my motives perhaps.

I sent him a bratty grin, wondering what he was like if I pushed him. Hey, a girl needed hobbies. Leaning forward, I cupped my hands to disguise my order and yelled into the bartender’s ear. I doubted Valentine heard me; the club’s volume took it up a notch the moment it turned eleven o’clock and well past all our bedtimes with a predawn start in a few hours.

Apparently Peatie wouldn’t be the only one regretting tomorrow.

“What’s that about?” Valentine’s fingers traced the blue leather at my wrist.

Coach shook his head, muttering. “I’m going to bed. Don’t stay out late. Or go home together, for fuck’s sake. Next week, maybe,” he growled, glaring at us.

I laughed as my drink order arrived in a double shot glass.

Coach sent me a second exasperated look. Another was directed over my head I didn’t bother to interpret, and walked away.

“Cora,” Valentine murmured in warning as I tested my shot glass and sighed.

I crooked a finger that I dipped into the dark, cold liquid. “Come here.” I wiggle the finger in the air, speaking to him loudly over the music as someone jostled me.

Warm hands slid beneath my jacket to hold me steady as Valentine regarded me with a steady gaze. “I don’t drink.”

“Trust me?”

His head cocked to one side, he opened his mouth. I smiled as I traced his bottom lip with my fingertip, then on impulse touched the tip of his tongue.

Warmth enveloped my finger as he sucked gently on the tip and suddenly my wardrobe choices were very obvious and really fucking bad.

Really bad.

“Jesus,” I whispered, not pulling my finger back as he cleaned the tip and released me.

I dropped my hand between us, watching his eyes. His pupils were blown wide with arousal and I knew mine would be the same.

“Cora,” he murmured my name.

Not that I heard him, but I read my name on his lips.

Lips I wanted on mine. On my body. Licking me.

I’m so gone for this man.

I gripped the zip on my jacket, suddenly glad Coach had left for the night, and pulled it down, wiggling my arms free. Valentine never moved his hands from my waist as I stripped my outer layer off, handing it to the bartender, leaving me in the dress I’d chosen, thinking it was cute and sexy.

The way he drank in the beaded, strapless dress with its plummeting v to my navel held up with some tape and my boobs, told me it was a mistake and that he was seconds away from mauling me at the bar.

I wiggled my butt. “I’m going to dance,” I said without yelling. My voice strained as I moved my mouth clearly for him to read my lips. “Are you coming with me, or are you going to watch?”

He waited a minute, so long I thought he might not answer me. That I’d scared him, or that he would reject me.

Valentine leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “Both, Cora. Dance for me.”

I shivered as he squeezed my hand and let me lead him away from the bar. People who would have jostled me didn’t. I followed in the wake that opened behind him, tucked away in the calm that he created. A shiver passed over me as the amount of pure trust that I put into this man slammed me.

Then he spun me into his chest, warmth pervading my front. I stared up at him, and everything, including the ability to breathe or think, was forgotten.

Valentine’s broad, strong hands skated over my hips, his touch so light as to not disturb the swinging beads on my dress. “Move for me,” his lips said as I read them through the pulsing beat even though I couldn’t hear his words.

My body moved as commanded. For a moment, the visibility of being in front of a crowd with him, the eyes of everyone around us seemingly locked on him and possibly me too for being with a Chimera, left me almost stationary in place. Then, as his eyes darkened with heat, and his heat dipped to crowd me on the fast filling dance floor, my hips began to sway in his hold. I tipped my shoulders back, my eyes drifting shut.

And in the space he made for us, the club with its darkened spaces and caffeine eating into my veins, I danced, as promised.

Just for him.

Valentine never grabbed me or crushed me against him, his hands grazing over my dress with the utmost respect in his touch. My nipples ached and pebbled as tight as the beads on my dress when he stroked the undersides of my breasts that grew heavy when he did nothing more. His breath brushed my lips, and I opened my mouth, willing him to kiss me as my body curled and undulated, moving in a rhythm designed, I swore, just for him.

“Cora,” he rasped, close enough, low enough, for me to hear.

My eyes cracked open to find him arched over me, hands closed so freaking lightly around my waist. Hands that could crush me, bruise me, if he so chose.

But he didn’t.

Heath Valentine was all about control over violence, and his touch, or lack of it, was⁠—

Electric.

The tip of his tongue stroked my bottom lip, wet and hot. I moaned, my mouth open and begging for more of his touch. Hell, I’d come for him in Coach’s office with my legs wide open, touched myself and come for him on video that he’d watched live and he hadn’t even kissed me properly yet.

The thought left me hotter than ever. Heat gushed between my thighs, slicking me even though he barely touched me now. His tongue stroked my lip in a parody of what else I needed from him, but when I rose up desperately on my toes he just laughed at me and drew back the same amount, making me chase him.

“Asshole,” I mouthed through a blast of music that was more bass and beat than anything else.

Those dark eyes glittered at me. “Dance, Cora.”

I whimpered, pressing against him, grinding helplessly, but it was a one way event. He watched me, as promised, and I knew he liked what he saw because his erection protruded against my belly.

Taking the risk, I rose up onto my toes in my heels again, tilting my head back. “Please,” I begged, knowing he could hear me. Probably he couldn’t see me, either, as the strobe flashed incessantly, leaving us as nothing more than a series of frozen snapshots in the dark.

His mouth met mine in the barest connection. I closed my eyes, relieved, even though it wasn’t the kiss I needed. Not yet but I knew we would get there. I teased the tip of his tongue with mine, but that was all he would give me, tiny touches, light caresses. It was nowhere near enough but that seemed to be his intent, to drive us both mad with need.

Fuck, from the way my thighs slicked, how I pressed my legs together and rubbed against him until he gently held me back with a warning look, it was well and truly fucking well working.

The song ended and I stood before him, panting and filled with the sort of flush that no amount of recirculated nightclub air could fix.

Apparently, Valentine felt the same way. His hand closed around mine firmly, he drew me through the crowd in longer strides than before. I took two steps to each one of his to keep up as he headed for the door. I looked over my shoulder, seeking the journalist party, then decided I didn’t care. It wasn’t like I was with them, anyway. Someone called my name, or I thought they did. Valentine’s hand tightened on mine, his grip warm and firm.

I raised a hand over my head in what I hoped wasn’t too much of a faux pas farewell, and breathed in crisp night air that slapped me in the face. The caffeine hit had been nice earlier but the chill air sobered me out of my lust induced haze… for about a second as Valentine led me around a corner that backed onto a half filled parking lot. He wheeled about to face me.

Unslaked need blazed in his face as he closed the short distance between us. What I’d thought before had been all wrong. His hands closed on my waist, squeezing me tightly as he dipped his head and claim my mouth in a fierce kiss that left me breathless and in no doubt that I was well and truly fucked.

Or at least I was about to be, Chimera style.

“Heath,” I whispered then faltered, unable to finish my thought as he stared down at me.

“You wanna go back inside with your friends, Cora,” he murmured. “Be my guest.” His touch dropped away, leaving cold patches on my sides where warmth had bloomed a moment before.

I shook my head, aching to inch forward, but could only lean into his space. My feet were locked into place between shards of broken glass and gravel beneath my heels.

Valentine’s breaths were even as he watched me. “You should go home.”

“No.” I shook my head, adamant. “Why bring me out here if all you wanted was to tell me what to do?”

The corner of his mouth quirked in his rare version of a smile. “I thought you liked it when I told you what to do.”

Suddenly I was the one panting as my vision blurred. Damnit I hated being out of control, and I hated that I wanted to run from him like I had in the office corridor. But for some stupid, really stupid fucking reason, I needed to stay and duke this one out with him.

Here, tonight.

“You should run.” He turned his back to me, one measured step away, and then another, heading for the black on black bike that I knew was his.

And suddenly I understood what his version of control meant. That it mirrored my panic and that him telling me to run didn’t mean that at all.

At least, not tonight.

“No.” I strode after him, around him and planted a hand firmly on his chest.

The corner of his mouth flickered again. “Reckless, Cora.”

He gave me one breath—just one—before his hands closed on my waist again. Then I was airborne as he lifted me onto his bike and laid me back across the seat, looming over me. My breath hitched and I slapped at his chest.

“No.”

Valentine froze.

Inch by inch he eased back, though his hands remained on my body. “Be clear, Cora. Right now with me.”

I nodded, tossing my hair over my shoulder. The wide curls mussed and fell out but I didn’t care as I knelt up on the bike seat. I wobbled, the machine wobbled but his hands were on me and I knew he wouldn’t let me fall. That was the level of trust we had.

“You. Here.” I pointed to the seat he’d planted me on.

Two eyebrows rose, but he said nothing else as he picked me up and swung me across his lap. I fought that, too, using his momentum to straddle him the moment his denim clad behind hit the leather seat.

“Better.” I nodded, letting my thighs slide over his, reveling in the rough sensation of his jeans against my skin, the heat of his body permeating through the material. I leaned forward, resting my hands on his shirt and stared straight into his eyes. This way, we were at the same level. “So much better.”

“Fuck, you are a little brat, aren’t you?” He squeezed me again, leaning forward to run his nose along mine, inhaling gently.

Then his mouth slammed over mine in a hard kiss, his tongue forcing its way inside. I cried out into his mouth, knowing I flooded his jeans as I rubbed myself against him. Heat overwhelmed me as I got everything I wanted in one. His hands roamed my body roughly.

Beads from my dress pinged off his bike and scattered across the parking lot in tiny shards of shattered frost and reflected ice. I moaned as he pulled my skirt up, baring my thighs.

One hand dipped beneath the curve of my ass, squeezed my thighs hard enough to leave red marks. And other sorts of marks. I moaned at the sensation, undulating to the rhythm he set, his feet planted firmly either side of the bike.

“Fuck, Cora. You’re perfect. A handful each side, and—” He broke off, cursing fluently as he reached between my legs and stroked my bare cunt, coming up with fingertips full of wetness. “Christ, butterfly. You’re dripping all over my jeans. I hope you’ll clean that with your tongue later.”

I whimpered against his mouth as he claimed me again, his kisses changing to something more possessive, deeper and slower. I reached between us, palming his cock through his jeans and toyed with the zip he strained against, until he was free in my hand. Thick and long, I wondered for a moment if I hadn’t bitten off more than I could take. I closed my hands around his heavy length, the velvet feel of him an absolute luxury.

One glance at his face told me we’d make it work.

“Control it yourself,” he murmured as he helped me lift over him, notching himself at my entrance. “Take only how much you want, Cora.”

I rubbed the head of his cock against my wetness, getting us both messy. Valentine bit back a groan as I dropped over him, taking as much as I could in a single thrust before I pushed up again. The burn and stretch was perfect. My thighs strained but he helped, lifting me to the crown of him, then letting me control the slow glide back down, but only as far as I wanted to go. So full, but I needed more. All of him.

Bracing my weight against his shoulders, I panted after only a few thrusts. “I- I can’t–”

“You will,” he promised, his eyes as black as night as he lifted me. “Again, Cora. Milk me with that hot, soaking little cunt until I mark you inside as mine.”

I moaned, already gushing for him as he rumbled his approval. That noise from his chest left me boneless and I let him lift and guide me, stretching my thighs as I could, tightening my internal muscles on every thrust. His thumbs curled over my clit as he helped me work myself up and it took only a few more moments before I cried out, dropping my head onto his shoulder.

My orgasm shattered me in a moment, the feel of him inside me too much. I slid all the way to the root of him, aided by the fresh slick.

“Good girl, Cora. I’m going to fuck you now,” Valentine murmured.

I clung to him as he began to move, lifting us off the bike with his legs spread and then⁠—

I screamed into his shoulder, uncaring if everyone in the street outside the club could hear us. Hell, if any of the journos saw us, we’d be tomorrow’s extra headline. I couldn’t think up anything right now. Nothing other than Valentine’s cock pistoning in and out of me, the friction so much that I bit into his shoulder. He wrapped one hand behind my head, holding me close as he fucked me with the other gripping my ass as he railed me from below.

My screams rippled around the darkened, gritty parking lot as he fucked us both marking me as his, and him as mine.

Valentine slammed deep, his cock thickening as it rippled inside me. His roar against my skin, even muffled, echoed. I shivered in his embrace, willing my pussy to milk him, wanting his seed as deep as I could take him.

Maybe we were both broken. Maybe we were both ruined.

Maybe we were made this way for each other.

He held me close, murmuring soothing things as he licked sweat from the hollows of my throat. “Fuck, you taste delicious, butterfly,” he rasped into my skin as he settled back onto the bike.

I mumbled something incoherent, raising bleary eyes to his face.

“And you’re fucking beautiful like that. Are you going to run home for me and leave the door unlocked so I can hunt you later?” His deep timbre worked its way bone deep.

I clung to him a moment longer, unwilling to move until he nudged me. “Do I have to let you go?” I murmured sleepily.

His laugh sent fresh ripples through my body, deep enough that we both groaned. “Yes, Cora. Move. before someone sees you and I take them to the hospital. Then you’ll have a real problem to fix.” The level of possession in his voice left me flushed head to toe. Deep inside me, his cock flexed back to life. “That is, unless you want me to fuck you out here where anyone can see you, rather than love you in your bed later?”

“I’ll go,” I managed, attempting to swing a leg over his and nearly face planted off his bike into the grit beneath us.

His laughter echoed around us. “Cute, butterfly,” he muttered. “Damn, I’ve fallen for you, you know that?”

“You’re not alone.” My confession fell in one of those silent moments right as I managed to swing myself free.

A feral plunging noise filled the absence of sound, and Valentine’s cum dripped down my legs.

A fresh wave of humiliation washed over me. Oh, hell. Had I just admitted I was falling for a Chimera? The one I really wasn’t supposed to, after everything, and to his face, with his fluids coating me? This was not. Okay. I closed my eyes and willed myself to count to ten. Nope. Not working.

Okay, backwards. Yep, that was….shit. I was so totally, utterly fucked. My eyes heated and tears coated my cheeks. Yay, more fluids.

“Cora.” Warm hands coated my cheeks, thumbs brushing away my tears when I shook my head and refused to look at him, or anything else. “Cora,” he repeated when I didn’t answer him.

Can’t answer him.

Valentine sighed then his mouth was on mine in a slow, deep kiss that left me in no question where I stood with him.

In deeper than before.

I shuddered in his arms, and leaned closer.

“Better. Now go home.” His hands dropped the waist of my ruined dress, squeezing in that same rhythm of his from before. “Go home and run that last part so I can hunt you, butterfly. Leave the door open, and get on the bed, exactly as you are, all freshly fucked and messy. Because tonight I’ll love you until the sun comes up, Cora.”

“Tomorrow you have early practice.” Which I was going to watch with a tired hangover. My promise to myself—if they practiced, I watched. My silent deal with them even if they never agreed to it.

“Tonight is for us. Ours. Do you understand me?” He pressed a kiss to my lips before I could say anything and the only answer I gave was a nod. “Good girl. Now, run home with my cum sliding down my legs and remember every way I just fucked you. How my cock felt inching its way inside your cunt, stretching you out so I’m the only man who’ll ever fit you from now on. Rub those beautiful thighs together for me, Cora. Nice and slick. Tonight I’m going to drench you in my cum.”

I shuddered, nearly orgasming from his filthy words as he held me tight to him, laughing softly. “Don’t leave me alone,” I whispered, hating how desperate I sounded. How needy.

“I won’t, Cora. Not with me. You’ll never be alone.”

I sighed, relaxing into his chest at his promise. His chuckle above me and a little push left me cold as his embrace disappeared left me aching and chilled.

“Run, Cora. Remember what I said.”

I took one glance at those possessive, glittering black eyes and I did exactly what he said.

I ran.