Page 64 of Once A Villain

“I’m not acting like nothing happened,” he replies nonchalantly, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear.

The simple gesture makes me nauseous, and I try to pull away, but his other arm holds me captive.

“I’m very aware of what I did to you. I remember itvividly.” His fingers trace down my neck, skimming my collarbone. My breathing quickens, my chest heaving with the urge to fight back, but I’m paralyzed. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you look right now?” He presses a soft, infuriating kiss on my neck. “How much I want to fuck you?”

The audacity of him—acting like everything’s fine, like he hasn’t left scars I’ll carry forever. His hand drifts up my waist, fingers trailing over my back.

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me. Don’t. Fucking. Look. At. Me.”

“Feisty. It makes me want you more.”

“You’re a psychopath,” I hiss.

“Yes, and?” His voice is a dark rumble, his lips hovering too close. I shove him hard, but he doesn’t move. He just laughs—a deep, infuriating sound that makes me want to scream.

He grips my ass and yanks me against him. His breath skims my ear.

“Now, don’t make a scene, princess. Unless you want everyone to see what a bad girl you are. Because I’ll gladly put on a show.”

Before I can respond, he pulls away, strolling back into the VIP section.

Shaking with rage, I storm to the bar, grab a bottle, and pour myself a drink. I down it in one shot, liquor burning a fiery path down my throat. I pour another, chasing the bitter sting with a desperate gulp.

After facing Axe, I need something to dull the edge. Soon, the alcohol starts to blur my thoughts.

I head for the couch by Kyla, but Axe grabs my arm and pulls me into his lap. I twist to get free, but his grip doesn’t budge. His hands lock around my waist, pinning me in place. Panic flares, but the crowd around us stays oblivious.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. His arm drapes around me, his hand sliding deliberately along my ribs.

My breath catches, and my thoughts race, torn between bolting and the strange, confusing comfort of his strong body pressed against mine. What the hell is wrong with me? I blame the alcohol—no one in their right fucking mind would ever want to be close to Axel Hawthorne, not unless they were trying to kill him.

His hand trails up my thigh, slipping under the high-cut hem of my skirt. His touch sends a jolt through my body, and my skin prickles in response. No. This can’t happen. Not again.

I shift my hips, trying to break his grasp, but all I succeed in doing is grinding against him.

He whispers, “Keep moving, and I will take you right here. Show everyone who you belong to.”

“Go to hell,” I hiss.

His breath is hot on my neck, and his hands grip my thighs.

“I’m already there, little siren. But it’s much more fun now that you’re here with me.” He presses closer, grinding his hardening erection against me.

I attempt to stand, but his grip tightens, holding me in place.

“Let me go, Axe,” I whisper.

“Never. I like having you on my lap, struggling against me.”

His hand glides up my leg, fingertips skimming the lace of my thong. My pulse spikes as his touch dips lower, tracing the crease of my thigh. Panic and fear twist in my chest, colliding with the traitorous thrill of his touch.

He leans forward, his lips grazing my neck.

“What are you doing?” I whimper when he moves my thong aside.

“Touching what’s mine.” He runs his fingers along my wet slit, and I squirm. “Shh,” he coaxes, his teeth grazing my neck. “Be my good girl and stay quiet.”

“I’m not yours.”

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