Page 23 of Blackwood

He stayed silent for a while, then turned back to me. “Because I’m a bad man who does bad things.” His gaze flickered down my body again, lingering on my breasts and then lower. When he licked his lips, heat burst in my cheeks and a tingle rippled across my thighs.

“You don’t seem so bad to me.”

His eyes darkened, as if he didn’t appreciate what I’d said. “You don’t know me.”

“I think I know enough.”

He smiled, but it was cold. “Do you?”

I crossed my arms over my chest as goose bumps raced across my skin. “You’ve been taking care of me. You’ve been kind.”

He walked back to the bed and sat next to me, our hips touching. “I’ve been kind because I’ve had to be. Pete gave very clear instructions on how you were to be treated.”

I swallowed hard as his steely blue eyes bored into me. “Would you have treated me differently if it weren’t for Pete?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“How?” My blood raged through my veins.

He leaned closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “I would have hurt you.”

Why did his words shoot through me like a hit of a euphoric drug? “Why?”

“I’ve seen you looking at me.” He brought a hand to my cheek, his touch soft. “I know what you think about. I’ve heard you in here at night when you think I’m asleep.”

My cheeks burned red.He heard that?I feigned nonchalance. “So?”

“So.” He slid his hand down to my neck. “You said you saw where I left my teaching job.”

“You were fired.” I tried to lean back—his eyes were too intense—but his grip tightened at my throat.

“But you don’t know why?” He stroked my neck with his thumb and rested his other hand on my knee.

I wrapped my hands around his wrists. “No.”

He massaged his long fingers along my thigh while keeping my neck in his large palm. Control. He had every bit of it.

“I had an affair with the dean’s wife. But that wasn’t what led to my dismissal.” He smoothed his hand up my thigh and under the hem of my shorts. He leaned closer, his warm breath tickling my ear.

My grip on his wrists faltered; I couldn’t decide if I was afraid or turned on. Maybe a bit of both, and wasn’t that all kinds of fucked up? When his fingertips brushed my panties, I jolted.

“Are you wet, Red?” His lips brushed the shell of my ear, and I shivered.

“Don’t.” The quaver in my voice gave me away. I wanted him to touch me, wanted it more than I should have.

He laughed, low and sinister. He pushed my panties to the side and ran his fingers along my wet flesh. “You are.”

I whimpered and closed my eyes.

“Fuck.” He bit my ear, and I grabbed his shoulders.

Desire overwhelmed me and drowned out any logic. I wanted him, his wildness, and his veiled passion. If only for this single moment, maybe I could feel something other than loneliness and the burning need to know the truth.

When he pressed a finger inside me, I moaned. I tried to press my thighs together, but his palm kept enough room between them so he could ease farther inside me. God, it felt good.

“So wet and tight.” His voice was a growl as he fastened his lips right below my ear.

Heat seethed inside me, and when he squeezed my throat, I moaned.

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