I leap over him, but his hand shoots out and catches my leg. He tugs me so hard I land flat on my face. Angry tears course down my cheeks as I kick and push forward, desperate, needing to get out of here.

“I don’t want to be here with you,” I bellow, my voice cracking just slightly. “It’s your fault I’m here. It’s all your fucking fault. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I know you didn’t,” he growls, his voice low and clearly pained. “But there ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you get killed for it. You have to fuckin’ trust me, Ash.”

“I don’t want to,” I scream. “I should fucking hate you.”

He slides up over my body, his chest pressing against my back. His mouth drops to my ear and he murmurs, “But you don’t fucking hate me and it kills you, because you know I’m the best thing for you right now.”

He’s right; deep down I know that, but it doesn’t mean I will accept it easily.

“I will go to a police station, and—”

“Ash,” he growls into my ear. “They’re in on it, too. You wouldn’t be safe.”

“What?” I squeak.

What sort of horror are these people running?

“Right here is the safest place you can be right now.”

“I don’t want to die, Krypt,” I whimper, my voice low and pathetic, like a whiny child’s. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Look at me,” he demands, moving off me and rolling us so his body is settled over mine. Our eyes lock. His are determined, like he’s sure nothing will ever happen to me. “I won’t let anythin’ hurt you. I will lay my life down before anyone touches you.”

“Why?” I whisper.

“Because innocent people don’t deserve bad things. They don’t have a choice.”

I stare up at him. “Is that all?”

My heart picks up and I swallow, wanting to dart my eyes away, but instead I hold his gaze.

“No,” he says, his voice low and husky. “But that’s the only reason I’m tellin’ you right now, because the rest of it . . . I’m goin’ to show you.”

I don’t get the chance to answer, because his mouth comes down over mine. His jaw flexes and pulls as he kisses me, deep and powerful, taking all the bad away and replacing it with heaven. Krypt is my little piece of heaven, the fantasy I can’t have but I want. When I’m with him, I forget that he can never be mine.

His kisses fog my mind, his body floods my heart, and his presence makes me forget to breathe. I can’t protest, there’s nothing left to say. The fact is I want Krypt as much as he wants me, wrong or right. And if being here with him, feeling him over me, is how this moment is going to go, then who am I to stop it?

Our bodies grind against each other in frenzied passion as our tongues dance. The piercing in his lip tickles my skin as he devours me. His hands find my stomach and slide up beneath my shirt, splaying out across my warm flesh. My cheeks burn; I’m not a skinny model, not like most of the women I have no doubt he fucks.

“Don’t touch me there,” I breathe into his mouth.

“Give me a good fuckin’ reason why not,” he rasps against my lips as his hand slides up, searching for my breasts.

“I’m . . . I’m not skinny, and . . .”

“I’ll tell you this once, so listen fuckin’ close. I don’t want no skinny, bony-assed woman. I want a woman with flesh, something for me to appreciate. I want curves that make my jaw tighten, and my dick hard. I want to see beauty that only a woman with curves can accentuate. You, baby, are what a woman should be. So, I’m goin’ to keep my hands on you, I’m goin’ to suck your nipples, I’m goin’ to squeeze your ass, and then I’m goin’ to put my cock deep inside you—purely because you’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Oh, God.

When he puts it like that, there really is no way to say no.

“There’s somethin’ else.” He nips at my lower lip. His hand finds one of my breasts, and he squeezes it with a firmness that has my back arching.

“W-w-w-what?”

“I like it rough, darlin’.”

“Don’t they all,” I mewl, sliding my hands under his shirt and feeling the hard, yet silky smoothness of his skin against my palms.

“No, sweetheart,” he grates out, sliding his hand around my back to unclip my bra so he can find my nipples. Oh God, yes.

“Then elaborate,” I pant, squeezing his hip with my fingers.

“When I fuck, I like to fuck with a raw ferocity most women can’t handle. I don’t make love. I want you up against a wall, my hands tangled in your hair while my cock is driving in and out of you. My hands won’t be gentle; my cock won’t be gentle; and baby,” he growls, “I won’t be fuckin’ gentle.”

“Give me all you’ve got, biker,” I challenge breathlessly.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Never had one so eager.”

“Just one question,” I moan, writhing beneath him as he pinches my nipple so hard that pain shoots through my spine, and pleasure floods my pussy.

“Only one?” he murmurs against my mouth. “Go.”

“Will you put your hands on me in an aggressive way that will be forever scarring?”

He pulls back, his lips swollen from our kiss. “It’s your turn to elaborate.”