Page 120 of Under the Bed

Me? I can hardly crack a smile. Over anything.

But she makes me smile.

My Shiloh.

Slivers of moonlight seep in through the paned window, illuminating the otherwise dark room.

They cast a hauntingly silver glow along her face. Over her lips which are pressed into a fine line.

They highlight the madness lurking behind her eyes. Darkening her soft cheekbones in a tinge of red.

She shakes her head, snapping out of the shock.

Rage takes over, and it’s so fucking gorgeous that my mouth finally curves up.

“You reckless, cruel motherfucker.”

If this isn’t the essence of beauty—if this palette of emotions isn’t something to obsess over for a lifetime—then honestly, I don’t know what is.

And that knife she’s holding up. She recovered it from the crime scene and she’s threatening me with it.

Her other hand, it’s around my throat andfuck.

I’ve been awake for less than five minutes, listening to her move around the apartment. It’s been such a turn-on, preying on my huntress.

My cock is throbbing for her. My whole body is throbbing for her.

The real her. Every unhinged part of her, shining from the inside out.

Rage rolls off her in waves. Hot and suffocating.

I keep eyeing her. She squeezes her tiny hand around my throat. Demanding my attention. My air. My life, I think.

I’ll give her something better than that.

I’ll talk to her using the only love language I know.

Pain.

“Me?” I’m stronger. Bigger. Meaner. I flip her on her back, caging her between my arms.

“Yes, you,” she growls like a wild animal, still choking me. Still turning me on. But the knife has dropped to the bed, the blade shining in the dim moonlight. “You don’t listen. Why don’t you care? Why?”

Today has affected her in ways I couldn’t have expected. For whatever reason, it’s turned her into this. Into someone who’s coming apart at the seams, and I’m here for it.

The look she’s giving me. They way her muscles work in her attempt to strangle me. Her high-pitched whispers.

God. My cock is about to tear out of my briefs. I press it into her, earning myself a growly, “You bastard.”

“I don’t think so, little sister. I’ve been so good.” I sneer, my harsh expression getting me what I wanted. Another one of her emotions that I can’t get enough of. Her fear. “For you.”

She flinches into the pillow. Her hold on my throat loosens. I grind my hips into her another time, and she tries, oh so desperately, to close her legs. Never.

“I’ve been so fucking good, Shiloh.” Stroking my thumb along her jawline earns me a shiver. A widening of her eyes. “I stayed home tonight. I did what you asked.”

“Not before you killedhim.” Ah, so I wasn’t wrong about it, after all. I could sense that I was being watched. I figured it was her; I just couldn’t see her. I couldn’t stop myself, either.

It was either him or us.

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