My hands shot up, desperate to capture his face and kiss the hell out of him. But the chains jangled, keeping me prisoner.

Fox smiled wryly. “See? You naturally want to touch. Did you think you could avoid the urge while I fingered you intimately? This is the only way.” His digit worked deeper and I moaned. “Tell me. Let me know how to make you shatter.”

I swallowed hard, cheeks flushing with excitement and nerves. I’d never had to explain sex. I barely knew the mechanics myself, but I had learned my body. I found the trick to exploding in the dark beneath my covers.

“Put another finger inside me,” I whispered.

His hand clutched my hip harder, and I dared look at his cock. It stood proud and so, so hard between his legs. My mouth watered to lick him again.

Slowly, he withdrew his finger and brushed my cl*t as he pressed two digits together. I stumbled as he very carefully and oh so teasingly pressed two fingers deep. I banded around him. I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.

“Shit, you’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen,” Fox growled as his finger worked me, pressing deep and withdrawing in a perfect rhythm.

Seen.

Oh, God.

I looked up, freaking out. “The glass. Anyone can see us.” I wiggled, trying to free myself, but he held me firm. “Let me go. I agreed to sleep with you not give the world a show.”

He chuckled. “We’re too far away from the house to be seen through the windows and there’s a lot of grass to cross before they’d get an eyeful.”

His fingers dived deep and possessive, forcing my attention back to him. “Now tell me how to make you come.”

Everywhere he touched, I incinerated into smoke. My h*ps began a slow dance, rocking on his hand. I didn’t need to think, only listen to what I needed. I honestly didn’t know if I would be able to come while standing and giving instruction to a man who consumed my thoughts, but he wanted to try; I wanted to give in.

“Keep thrusting with your fingers, and swirl your thumb around my clit.”

Fox obeyed immediately. His thumb pressed the sensitive nerves, and I bucked in his hold. His forehead furrowed as he concentrated on perfecting his rhythm. Thrust, swirl, thrust, swirl.

With every stroke I forgot where we were, how strange our relationship was—I forgot my own name as heat gathered and rushed between my legs.

My knees wobbled wanting to crumble to the ground.

“Like this?” Fox asked, his voice so deep with lust I could barely understand.

I no longer possessed the gift of speech and ground myself onto his hand in answer.

“Fuck,” he groaned. His own h*ps began to pulse just slightly, a natural urge to join. “What else? Do I have to do anything else?” His hand left my hip and ascended to capture my breast. His fingers squeezed my nipple and I suffered a full body tremble.

“Yes… like that. Umm hmm.” My vision went black as all my senses turned inward, focusing on where he touched me.

His hand increased pressure until he rocked against my clit. “Come for me, Hazel. Fucking come on my fingers.”

His crude commands sent another wave through me, and he groaned. He lost the finesse of easy thrusting and grabbed my hip to hold me in place. “You’re going to f**king come.” He drove into me hard and deep. I cried out as intensity level went from hot to scorching.

“Come for me. Come for me. Fucking come for me.” He never stopped ordering and every stroke wound me tighter and tighter until I couldn’t wind anymore.

My lips parted, and I threw my head back as I rode Fox’s hand. The first wave of release shattered me just like he wanted. He growled low in his throat as I gripped tight around his fingers.

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, increasing his pressure and sending my orgasm into another realm entirely. I lost all mobility and became nothing more than an exploding firework.

Wave after pleasure wave I surfed. I’d never come apart so completely.

The moment my orgasm faded, Fox ripped his fingers from me, spun me around, and pulled me down fast.

I moaned long and low as his c**k pushed up and entered me in one thick invading impale.

With nothing to hold onto and my hands chained to my stomach, I couldn’t fight or twist. Fox controlled every inch of taking me, and he’d stolen even my right to look at him.

His body was hard and hot behind me as his drove upward, taking me ruthlessly. I was so wet. His invasion slipped and stroked, sending yet more waves through my system.

I bounced in his lap, our only contact his erection deep inside me and his hands on my hips. Jerking me back to meet his thrusts, he breathed loud. “Goddammit, it’s like heaven being inside you. I never want to. Fucking. Leave.” He thrust with every word, shaking the chair until it scraped on the floor.

“Oh, hell,” he groaned. “I’m going to come. I can’t—I wanted. Fuck.”

He sounded like a wolf intent on shredding his prey alive as hot jets of wetness filled me. His thrusts turned feral as if he wanted to split me in two, delivering as much of himself as he could.

When the last band of his release left him, he slouched back into the chair. His c**k twitched inside and I wanted nothing more than to lay back and have him wrap his large strong arms around me.

We didn’t move. The only sound was our breaths panting in the stuffy heat of the greenhouse.

After a minute, Fox patted me on the back, murmuring, “Thank you.”

I struggled not to laugh. Such a formal touch and verse. Nothing like what we’d just done. We’d just owned each other in a fit of f**king, and he’d already withdrawn.

There was no afterglow or tender-hearted cuddling.

Instead of being hurt, I smiled.

However strange our interlude had ended, he’d been an eager lover and hadn’t tried to kill me.

Progress.

Two days later, I reclined on Fox’s bed watching television.

The episode displayed a sexy sun-bronzed man arguing with a pretty redhead. The undeniable tension on screen amped up my own need until my core grew wet. Being around a male like Fox without being allowed to touch was a daily agony of unrequited pleasure.

He hadn’t come near me since the greenhouse, and we hadn’t spoken a word about it. That night when I went home to Clara, she’d had a coughing fit, and it was all I could do to not break down and scream at every entity for making her sick.

Every day I suffered more and more guilt. Guilt for living another life away from her. Guilt for finding small smidgens of happiness thanks to Fox. I felt like a traitor and a bitch.

Clara grew sicker despite the new pills I made her take every morning and the exorbitantly expensive trail drug in her inhaler.

Fox stalked toward me, wiping his face with a black towel, panting and sweaty from his session in the gym down the hall.

Not only did he drive his broken body to failure by endless fights and working long hours, he also worked out religiously every morning when he woke. Wearing the same black trousers and long sleeved shirt, he came back drenched in sweat.

“I’ll just have a shower, then we’ll head out. We haven’t left Obsidian since we met, and I need to run a few errands. I’d like you to come.”

Not waiting for my reply, he disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door. I waited for the shower to turn on, imagining Fox na**d and wet.

My tummy fluttered with the thought. Pushing Clara from my mind, compartmentalizing my two lives, I scampered off the bed and tiptoed toward the bathroom.

What if he catches you?

With my heart in my throat, I turned the handle. I expected it not to turn—after all, Fox was so private I figured he would’ve locked it—but it unlatched.

I stopped breathing as I cracked open the door and peered inside.

Fox stood trembling and tense in the centre of the shower while hot water hissed and fizzled on his skin. He stood side profile, hiding his back and chest—the two areas I most wanted to see. With one hand, he held a razor and pressed the blade hard against his inner thigh.

His eyebrows drew together, knitting tightly as a small trickle of blood erupted from the wound and sluiced down his leg with boiling water.

I wanted to run in and stop him, but he cut himself again—one more perfect line. Tossing the razor to the side, he switched the water from scalding to freezing and tension siphoned from his muscles down the drain.

Resting his forehead against black tiles, he groaned with every sadness and f**ked-up emotion inside.

I couldn’t watch any longer.

Closing the door, I drifted back to the bed in a daze. I felt as if he’d dragged the blade down my heart instead of his leg.

You’re so stupid, Zel. You thought you’d broken through. You thought he was on the road to recovery.

I was idiotic to hope he wouldn’t self-harm anymore. I’d searched for evidence, but saw none. Now, I knew why.

His inner thighs had an array of marks and cuts, decorating his already scarred legs. He’d even taken out the stitches on his thigh and calf, causing the wounds to gape a little, not fully healed.

Fuck.

I rubbed the heel of my hand into my chest, trying to dispel the aching agony. I hated seeing someone in pain. I hated not being able to help.

There was no helping someone with a mind so scrambled like Fox’s.

The shower switched off and a few minutes later, Fox strode into the room dressed in his usual wardrobe of black.

His eyes narrowed, running hands over his wet hair. The strands of colour captured sunlight, looking bronze, cinnamon, black, and gold. The Sydney sun bounced through the large windows, turning the black interior into a sun-soaked paradise.

“What the f**k, Zel? You look like you just witnessed a murder.” Scowling, he headed to his wardrobe and came back with a black blazer.

I blinked, forcing the unhappiness away. “Nothing. Just a sad program on television.”

He dropped his arms, the blazer dangling by his side. “Don’t you dare lie.” His eyes flashed white, looking around the room, searching for some hint at what switched my mood. “Tell me. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. It’s what you did!” Shit.

He prowled forward, then stopped, keeping a careful distance. The air around him crackled as the calmness he’d reached from inflicting harm in the shower disintegrated.

My skin quivered with need; my core throbbed—stupidly turned on by his anger.

For a moment all we did was stare, then knowledge exploded in Fox’s gaze. “You watched.” He threw the blazer across the room. “You f**king watched!”

My muscles locked down in fear before rupturing with adrenaline. I flew off the bed, keeping it between us.

His eyes never left mine, hands curling in rage. “What did you want to see, dobycha?” He inched closer to the bed. “Perhaps you’re looking for the mark? Maybe you’ve figured out who I am after all.” Sneering, he added, “You’re too f**king intelligent not to have guessed by now what I am.”

I didn’t have a clue what he was, but once again, I knew I had to push him. I had to shove him so far past his comfort zone I broke another small part of him—all in the name of making him whole again.

Reaching for the hem of my grey t-shirt, I yanked it over my head, standing tall in my jean-shorts and bra.

Fox slammed to a halt. “What the f**k are you doing?”

My hands trembled as I pulled the small knife from my pocket and tossed it onto the mattress, keeping it in easy reach. My heart roared in my ears as Fox rolled his well-formed shoulders, eyes locking onto my exposed flesh.

The sun bounced off my chain, glittering a silver path from collar to waist. “I’m done dancing around you like you’re a precious piece of china. What good is it to be bought for sex if you never deliver?” My voice filled with breathy trepidation as well as billowing lust. “You taunt me by never touching. You make me wet by never coming close. You self-harm instead of turning to others. You’re dying inside when I’m trying to help you live.”

Planting hands on my hips, I snarled, “You always think of yourself and never about me.”

His mouth hung open as his eyes narrowed to silver slits. “I take it back—you’re not intelligent, you’re f**king suicidal. Don’t push me again, Zel. Remember what happened last time?” He took an angry step toward me, closing the distance between us. He fisted his hands. “You know why I can’t touch you! Stop f**king pushing me.”

“No, I don’t! All you’ve told me is nothing. Secrecy on top of hidden agendas on top of a multitude of half-truths. Why can’t you touch me, Fox? Who made you like this? Who stole every basic right from you?” My shaking fingers went behind my back, pinging the clasp on my bra. I moaned as the material whispered off, kissing my ni**les on its fall to the floor. I’d never felt so exposed or empowered. Stripping for a man who didn’t even want me. Who couldn’t come within a metre of me without locking his jaw and inching into murderous rage.

“Do you want to die? Is that what you’re trying to achieve here?” Fox growled. His hand dropped to cup between his legs. “You want this so damn much you’d be willing to die for it?”

“No, I’m not willing to die for you. I thought I proved that before.” My eyes shifted to where I’d stabbed him. “I’ll never forgive you for hurting me. I’ll never forget the madness living inside you. I will gladly kill you if you ever try to end me, but I need human connection, Fox. And you’re not giving it to me. You need to get over your issues. Forget your past, so you can touch me. Make love to me.”

It was too infuriating spending so much time with someone who I desperately wanted to help. Any minor progress we made was swallowed back into his deep-seated problems. For someone like me who existed to save others it was persecution, and I refused to be a martyr anymore.