Page 54 of Feed Your Fiends

“How?”

“You know how to ride me, Dovey.”

I swallow hard as the lift doors slide open, and we step inside. With one swipe of a black key card, we’re moving up. It’s hard to believe we weren’t already on the top floor.

“And when we go to Beaulieu in a week?” I ask.

“I’ll be your feet then, too.”

I knit my brows. “You can’t dance for me.”

“Watch me,” he whispers in my ear, and a shiver racks my spine as I grip him tighter.

I watch him on one of the reflective walls. He’s drinking in our intertwined silhouette, his left hand stroking my hair, his right arm firmly beneath my ass.

“We look,fit, so good like this,” he whispers almost to himself, then to me. “I need to sink, melt into you. Dissolve into you…” His nose brushes my neck, his dark eyes peering up into mine beneath heavy lashes. “Will you let me?”

The question despite his normal, cold, intonation sounds so fucking vulnerable, hopeful, andpleading,but I don’t answer him because the doors slide open and we step into his home.

His home. Remember that.

It’s nothing short of stunning, from the matte black walls to the natural wooden accents to the textured fabrics that add dimension to the masculine lair. That’s what it feels like,a lair.

Suddenly, I feel tiny, a feeling my ballet instructors, namely Gant’s own mother, would laugh at. But that’s how I feel under the triple-height ceilings, like a speck. But Gant doesn’t feel like a speck holding me, caging me against him.

He feels like he belongs because it’s his territory. Of course, he stalks the massive corridors and knows every hiding place.

My feet itch to get to the floor, ready to sprint despite their fragility because this dark, beautiful lair has activated my cavewoman instincts. I know I’m in danger as I take in Gant’s beautiful face against the backdrop of where he lures his prey. How can I ever win here when I’m on his turf?

“What’s that?” I ask, surprising him as I rip my legs from his waist and fall to my feet with a dull ache. Before he can reach me, I fly to the opposite side of the room with feigned interest. “The floor’s different here.”

I barely get a chance to study the mysterious black covering before I’m pulled away.

“Don’t go near it.”

“Why?” I ask as he knits our fingers and tugs me toward a massive hallway that seems to stretch on forever in the dim lighting.

“It’s not secure,” he says darkly, guiding me past a dark ramp where two double doors await.

The ramp reminds me of a cinema entrance…a theatre? In his house? Sorry,penthouse.Why am I surprised?

“What’s down there?” I stall because I know where he’s leading me.

“Nothing more important than where we’re going.”

I dig my heels into the glossy flooring, but it’s no use; I slide effortlessly alongside him.

“Don’t you want to give me a tour first?”

He shakes his head. “I need to take one.”

“What?” But it dawns on me the minute those dark eyes skim my body before they flash ahead again, determinedly.

Elle

Under normal circumstances, I’d think this hallway, no,tunnel, would never end, but it does far too soon because Gant pushes open a door, and I’m met with his mini lair.

It’s all blacks, slate greys and natural wood with specklings of golden light from lamps and the city below. The bed is massive, a custom-made plush pad that nearly spans the entire wall. Something’s tucked in the middle, and as I lean closer, I see the little Gant and Elle dolls he’d made for us. I’d tossed demon doll Gant at the hospital once Stassi brought my bags I’d left in the dorm before my ballet bloodbath. Yet his far-apart black eyes stare up at me as if I’d never abandoned him after squeezing him tight and soaking him in my tears. I swallow my thundering heart that’s risen into my throat and turn into a wall of muscle as the bedroom door closes silently, seemingly of its own accord.

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