Page 54 of Lost to the Woods

“Right.” Bunny pulled her phone out of her purse. She started tapping on the screen. “Done!” she announced, swaying slightly.

I smiled—if only she knew how close I was to her. She had no idea I was right there. That I was watching her like I always did.

“Now stop moping! It’s your birthday! Let’s dance!” Kendra tried to make her smile again.

But Bunny started blinking too much, pressing her fingers to her temple. She was out of it. “I don’t feel good,” she mumbled.

Kendra touched her arm, bleary-eyed. “Why don’t we go sit down?”

They went downstairs and joined Nate at the booth. He knew right away that something wasn’t right.

“You want me to take you home?” He didn’t wait for the answer. Bunny barely protested as he led her out, her legs slacking behind her. Kendra followed.

So did I.

They hailed a cab and bundled inside.

I was right behind them all the way to Bunny’s brownstone.

Nate walked her inside while Kendra held the cab. And I watched through the cameras how he guided her straight to her bedroom. She kicked off her heels, stumbling slightly and giggling to herself—the next stage of the drug was kicking in, and she was moving through the motions of her intoxicated state. But Nate was a good boy. Per her request, he undid the zipper of that tiny pink dress and let it fall to the floor without peeking. Then she crawled into bed in nothing but her pantiesand tangled herself in the sheets, already half-asleep. He kept his hands to himself.

Smart move. I’d cut them off right then and there if he tried to take advantage of her state.

He just brushed her hair gently, then joined Kendra before they drove off.

That’s when I moved.

The lock clicked softly behind me as I slipped inside. The apartment was pitch-black and full of the soft scent of her. I walked silently, way too familiar with the layout, and stopped at the edge of her room, watching. Her curtains were left open, and the streetlight, along with the moonlight, illuminated her face just enough for me to see.

She was a mess. Mascara smudged, hair wild, skin flushed from too much alcohol. But she was still the most fucking beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Soft. Unaware. Helpless.

My fingers twitched with the need to touch. To ruin. To take everything she kept from me.

I slowly approached the bed. Her breaths were slow, deep, her lips parted just slightly as she drooled a little into her pillow. I brushed my palm down the length of her bare arm, barely a whisper of contact, but she still shivered, shifting slightly, murmuring something unintelligible in her sleep.

I should’ve fucking left.

Instead, I moved closer.

Pulled the covers away.

The heat of her skin was addictive, intoxicating. My hands ghosted over her waist, feeling the dip, the soft, delicate lines of her body. My fingers trembled, brushing over the curve of her hip, as I trailed my palm even lower, my touch feather-light. She sighed, pressing into the mattress, a quiet sound slipping past her lips, and my cock fucking ached.

She always did this to me.

Always made me crave her in ways that should disgust me. Always played with fire, conscious or not, like she didn’t understand just how easily she could be burned.

I was tired of holding back.

I despised her for this.

For what she did to me.

For the way she made me need her, even when I wanted to destroy her.

The sheer lace panties she wore clung to her, leaving little to the imagination, and the sight of her like that sent a jolt of heat straight to my groin.

I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t even want to. The pull was too strong.

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