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He presses two fingers over my lips. “Shh, baby, don’t say his fucking name right now.”

My heartbeat flickers as he grabs the back of my head and tugs me to him, pressing hard kisses into my neck and face. He’s never kissed me like this—ever.

“Micah,” I gasp, holding my breath and hating how much I like it—his need for me.

He trails his hand down to my waistline, slipping his fingers inside me, circling my clit, and rubbing me for a few seconds. He pulls his hand out, wiping my wetness on my cheek and sliding his fingers toward my mouth. I part my lips, letting him. “Seems like you’re into it,” he whispers while a tense throbbing hits between my legs.

I quit fighting it. I want Micah to want me more than the air he breathes—I want him to suffocate.

My pupils flare and I match his grinding motions. “I’m not into it, I can assure you.”

Of course, my body says otherwise.

“That was incredibly hot,” he murmurs into my earlobe.

It puts me over the edge. “What was?” I breathe.

He runs his hands down my side. “You, kneeing Nigel like that. Then watching you press that spear into him while he wiggled on the ground like the fucking swine he is.”

Oh, that. So he was watching.

I soften slightly, letting him kiss my neck and face. He reaches his hand up my shirt, cupping each of my breast, my nipples like pebbles between his fingertips. His breath is heavy and desperate as he lifts my shirt and takes each breast into his mouth.

He shifts beneath me, pulling down his sweats and shifting his cock out.

“Take off your sweats,” he demands, the heat in his voice taking over me. “Slide that pussy over me, sweetheart. You are going to ride me and show me how much you fucking want me.”

His eyes are blazing with need as he slides down my pants. He then centers me over him and presses me down on top of him as he thrusts inside, giving me no grace. I yelp and moan, and my body tenses.

“Take it in deep, London,” he growls. “You’re going to fuck me so hard right now.”

This isn’t right. He doesn’t seem like himself, let alone the indecency of us doing this again while Thomas is suffering. And he never speaks to me like this.

Something is seriously wrong with him.

But I’m dripping wet, my body responding to every single touch. Even though every ounce of me is screaming no, I can’t resist him when he puts his hands on me, and he knows it. But if this is what he needs from me right now, then I will give it to him.

I arch my hips, letting myself wrap around him, taking him deeper inside me. My nipples are painfully swollen as he grabs and plays with them while I grind on top of him.

“Is this what you want right now?” I moan, rolling my hips as he squeezes my waist.

He pulls his hands off me and rests them behind his head, but he matches every movement. “Yeah, sweetheart. It’s what I fucking want.”

Sweetheart.

I seriously hate when he calls me sweetheart. This is the part of him I don’t understand—the part that equally turns me on and scares me. A side Maison doesn’t have. Maison would never demand this from me the way Micah is right now.

I pant as the edge of his cock hits deeper and deeper. If we were trying to be quiet, we are failing. I’m surprised the entire camp can’t hear me right now. He watches me for a few minutes as I rock back and forth, grinding and fucking him just like he wants me to. His eyebrows narrow—so much emotion radiating out of him. I close my eyes and relax into it. It’s so easy getting lost in him. His hard abs, soft skin, and muscled thighs… his lethal hands on me.

He grabs my chin, forcing my eyes open. His chestnut eyes flare. “Say my name.”

“Micah,” I whimper.

“Say it again, louder.”

“Micah. Micah.” I choke out his name.

“Good,” he says. “I want it to be crystal clear who you’re fucking tonight.”