Page 33 of His To Erase
He lowers his voice, dipping his head slightly. “Seems like someone already beat me to it.”
I stiffen, trying not to look at him or react.
"You think you know me now?" I ask, forcing the words out through clenched teeth.
He doesn’t answer right away—just watches me with those dark, unreadable eyes like he’s trying to decide how hard he wants to push.
"Didn’t take you for the type to be tied down."
My body reacts before my brain catches up. Every nerve goes electric—like I just walked into a war zone with no armor and a target painted on my chest.
And my pussy? A fucking traitor. She’s throbbing with all the things I’m picturing and shouldn’t be.Like exactly how it would feel being tied down for this man.
But also—How. Dare. He.
I turn my head just enough to glare at him.
"Excuse me?"
His mouth curves, like he can already feel the fire in my blood, and he knows exactly where my mind went. His dark eyes flicker down—just for a second, but enough to call me out without a single word.
Then, with that maddening, smug amusement curling in his voice, he says,
"Not what I meant, dear."
He tilts his head slightly—like a predator enjoying the squirm.
"A boyfriend... who pissed you off?" A pause. “Or just left you needing to put your hands on something?”
He lets it hang a little too long. Then adds, low and unbothered—“Hard.”
I blink.
It takes a full second for my brain to switch tracks, to process what he’s really asking, and when I do, annoyance flares.
I huff a breath, slamming another book onto the shelf beside me. "No. No boyfriend. Not now, not ever."
His brow lifts. "Tell me how you really feel?"
I smirk, crossing my arms, refusing to let him pull me under his spell again. "I’m not exactly the commitment type."
His smile widens, as if he’s just heard something deeply amusing. "I don’t believe that for a second."
I scoff, grabbing another book, and shoving it into place like it personally offended me.
"Not my problem."
“Mm.”
He leans against the shelf beside me, arms still in his pockets—But there’s nothing casual about the way he watches me.
"What’s your type, then?"
"You mean besides not you?"
His eyes gleam, dark and unreadable.
"Careful, sweetheart."
