Page 49 of Watch Me Burn
He’s here.
A stillness in the corner of the room, motionless, waiting, radiating a presence that makes every instinct scream danger.
“Did you have a good time at your gala, little doe?”
His voice comes out of the darkness, low and hard. I freeze, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Yes.” I swallow. “It was nice.”
He steps forward into the faint strip of moonlight slicing through my curtains. His mask gleams, covering the upper half of his face. But his mouth, that beautiful mouth that has never once kissed me, is visible, twisting into a smirk that makes my stomach drop.
“Nice,” he echoes, the word sounding dangerous on his lips. “And after? Was that nice too?”
My blood runs cold. How does he always know?
“I don’t know what you mean.” I retreat a step as he advances.
“Don’t lie to me, Luna.” He erases the remaining space until his presence overwhelms me, that intoxicating, clean, masculine scent that makes my treacherous body respond. My core pulses, my body softening and readying for him.
I swallow hard. “We had a drink at his place after the benefit.”
His hand comes up, fingers brushing my jaw with unexpected softness. Then his grip tightens, forcing my chin up.
“You have to be quiet tonight, little doe.” His voice gets quieter but somehow more menacing. “We don’t want to wake Maren, do we?”
My body spins before I can answer, and cold plastic snaps around my wrists as the zip ties lock tight.
“Wait—”
“Shhh.” His breath warm brushes against my ear. “Quiet, remember? Unless you want her to come up here and find you like this.”
The mental image makes me flush with arousal rather than embarrassment. He knows the right buttons to push, the correct combination to make me respond to him.
“Now.” He faces me towards him, his hands moving to the belt of my robe. “Let me see that beautiful body.”
He works the knot loose and pushes the silk from my shoulders. The fabric catches on my bound wrists, leaving me exposed while the robe hangs useless behind me. He steps back to take in the view.
“Turn around.”
I hesitate, and his hand rises to circle my throat. No pressure, just weight, a reminder of the power he has over me.
“Turn. Around.”
I face away from him, shivering as the cool air touches my damp skin. Fabric rustles behind me, and then cool steel presses against my skin as he cuts my robe, so it falls from my wrists.
Shit! He brought his knife.
He’s only used it a handful of times since that first night. But it still scares the fuck out of me every time.
The blade slides away with a whisper, replaced by his palms on my hips, his thumbs finding the dimples above my tailbone. Then one hand moves lower, fingers sliding between my thighs from behind until his middle finger glides through my slick folds.
I gasp at the contact, my body already responding to his touch.
“Wet.” He withdraws his hand. “You’re always so ready for me, Luna? But is this for me? Or because you let another man touch you?”
I stay silent because a lie would taste wrong on my tongue, but the truth might shatter whatever fragile thing exists between us. Will honesty finally kill this twisted dance we do in the dark?
“You let him do something. Tell me what.”
