Page 33 of Once A Villain

His tongue darts out to wet his lip, and his eyes—dark, hungry—are a dead giveaway. He’s doing a shit job of hiding it. Axe’s the type who always gets what he wants, and right now, he’s desperate for me.

With a practiced flick, I unfasten my bra. Standing naked in front of him, I can almost taste the shift in power. His jaw is clenched, his fists curled.

I drop to all fours, maintaining eye contact as I begin crawling slowly down the hallway. My hips sway with each movement, my breasts bouncing with them. I’ve played this game before—seducing men I can’t stand, wearing a smile that hides everything I want to scream. This is no different. I’ll pretend his touch isn’t repulsive. Pretend this doesn’t feel so damn wrong.

As I draw closer, my skin flushes with heat, my heart racing at the intensity of his stare. When I finally reach him, I kneel and tilt my head back, locking our eyes with a sly smile.

His eyes widen when I bite my lip, his breath ragged. The mix of shock and desire on his face is thrilling.

I reach out, my hand trailing slowly up his thighs, feeling the muscle tense under my touch. The heat of his skin radiates through my fingers. Suddenly, he grabs the back of my hair and yanks me up, his control slipping even further.

My breasts press against his naked chest, and his other hand wraps around my waist, his fingers digging into my skin.

“What are you doing, little siren?”

I flash him a sly grin, letting my finger drift across his muscular chest, tracing the intricate lines of his tattoos.

“Just earning my ride,” I purr, feeling his grip on my hair tighten in response. Sliding my hand down his abs, I follow the V-line of his muscles, feeling them twitch under my touch. He groans—low, primal, and just what I was hoping for.

But before I can push further, his hand clamps around my wrist, stopping me. “You told me to crawl,” I say, fluttering my lashes innocently.

His nostrils flare, his grip bruising now.

Oh, is the mighty Reaper slipping?

“Get dressed.” The order snaps out, sharp and angry, as he shoves me away. I stagger back, and he turns, stalking into his room.

My smile is short-lived, knowing I just crawled naked, for Axel Hawthorne. But seeing the shock on his face and my body’s effect on him was worth it.

Axe’s BMWroars down the highway, sleek and fast. He’s dressed in black jeans and a fitted white t-shirt that clings to his muscles, showing off a body that I grudgingly admit looks good.

But admiring him is a waste of energy. He’s a fucking asshole.

“So,” he breaks the silence, “where are we going?”

“A ballet recital.”

“A ballet recital?” The amusement in his voice annoys me. His biceps flex as he grips the wheel, tattoos stretching over his muscles.

He threw me in a damn dungeon and made me crawl to him, but here I am, distracted by his muscles.

I glance in the mirror and catch sight of the metal collar. I don’t want to face my family today. Questions, stares, whispers about Axe and me—I’d rather avoid all of it. I could hide the collar with a turtleneck or scarf, but it’s June and scorching outside. The bruises are mostly hidden, but the collar is impossible to ignore.

“What?” He glances at me, clearly enjoying my irritation.

“I want this stupid collar off.”

“No. You’re mine. It stays on.”

“Do you throw all the women you kidnap into basements?” I glare at him. “Or am I special?”

“Rory,” he growls, his grip on the wheel tightening, “if you were anyone else, you’d be dead. I don’t fuck around. Don’t test me. And if you ask about that collar again, you’ll wish you were back in the basement. You’re mine. End of story. Get used to it.”

“You can’t keep me collared like an animal.”

“I can. And I will.”

His threat doesn’t scare me, but I keep quiet, not wanting to provoke him further. The last thing I need is another fight. The only thing that matters right now is spending time with my nieces.

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