Page 13 of Holiday Scars
You sent that text to me.
My stomach drops. Every muscle locks. He knows. He knows everything.
“Shit,” I breathe, grabbing my phone and cursing when I pull up that late-night text with Blade’s name in the contact header instead of Dirk’s. Rubbing the back of my neck, I mutter, “Blade, I—”
“It’s okay,” Blade doesn’t let me finish and steps closer. “Did you mean what you said?”
“About wanting to kill the man you were with?” My throat tightens. “No comment.”
“That’s not something you need to hesitate to admit to me. I will always keep your secrets.” Blade licks his lips.
“My head was still hazy from almost drowning. It was stupid to say those things in a text.”
Blade frowns and stands before me. Calm. Controlled. The way he moves before a fight. Reading every flinch I make. Like a stalker. Like he’s obsessed. With me.
“How long?” he asks, low and throaty.
“How long, what?” I say even though I know what he means.
“How long have you felt this way about me?”
I shake my head, staring at the floor. “I don’t— I don’t know what I feel. It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. Not to me.” His voice drops lower. “Don’t lie to me, Jett. I heard you calling my name earlier while you were in the shower. Telling me to suck your cock.”
Heat swells in my throat.Jesus fucking Christ.
Blade takes another step, close enough that I can feel how fast his heart is beating.
“You’ve been holding this in a long time, haven’t you?” he murmurs. “Tell me... Have you ever been with a guy?”
I manage a small shake of my head. “No.”
He studies me, eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. “Because of your trauma?”
“What?” My eyes widen.
“Did somebody hurt you that way?” A vein in Blade’s neck throbs.
“No.” The answer comes out rough, and I swallow hard. “No one ever touched me that way. Just the usual beating crap. Belts. Knives. Cigarette burns.”
Blade’s jaw flexes. For a second, he looks like he’s about to tear someone apart.
Then he exhales, eyes softening again. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.
I stare at him. “Blade...”
“Just to see.”
It takes everything in me not to shove him out of the way and run. Not from fear, but from how much I want it. How much I want him. The kind of want that controls you. And for my line of work, it’s dangerous to be so wrapped up in something that will steal your focus every second.
Yet, when I look at Blade, I don’t see someone controlled by emotion. Nor do I see any of the men I work for controlled by it either. Love made them stronger.
“Okay,” I whisper, my pulse throbbing.
And my cock.
Blade closes the distance between us, slow enough that I can still stop him.
