Page 54 of Knight

His chest hits mine, grey-blue eyes zeroing in. “If I can’t trust you, you’re not leaving this room. Not with what you know now.”

“Back off, Damien. I keep telling you I’m not the enemy.” My hands land against his chest, my eyes dropping to his lips before I force them back to his eyes. But they’re too supple-looking. Too soft and marshmallowy to not give it a second look. That only makes me remember what they feel like. Makes me want to feel them again.

“I’m trusting you with this, Jo.”

He’s saying he’s trusting me but, “Can I trust you?”

His finger lands on my arm as he smirks. It’s like he knows what he does to me. Like he knows that simple touch has goosebumps rising to my skin before he says, “Only if you’re mine.”

Twelve

Damien King does something that I’ve never felt before.

Even after all this.

“You trusted me before.” He leans into my ear, “Right here, remember?” His voice is low and husky, like this whole banter turns him on and when he nibbles my ear, I let him like a mesmerized idiot. “You trust me with your body, don’t you, Medusa?” His breath lands on my neck and his body presses into me some more but the cat’s got my tongue. I can’t speak. I can’t move.

He tilts my chin towards the ceiling, my frozen body under his spell. “You trust me with that pretty little pussy too. Remember how I feel inside you? Remember how I made you mine, or do you need a reminder?”

A trail of kisses lead from my neck to my cheek, and when I don’t protest, his lips slam into mine.

And I’m a goner.

There’s something about Damien’s kiss that’s like kryptonite. Like delicious poison and I can’t get enough. He moves my arms above my head, locking them in place with my back against the door. It’s like the very first time I tasted this sinful fruit and every kiss only makes it juicier. Sweeter.

Divine.

“Damien.” His name lands against his lips before I find the little bit of willpower left inside me. “You can’t fuck me if you don’t trust me.”

Damien leans back, his cheeks flushed, brows low.

His grip loosens on my wrist and I already miss his lips on mine, his power releasing my control. I’m starting to regret saying a damn word as he stalls, his eyes wandering my body like a buffet. His hand comes to his chin like he’s considering something before he says, “Is it Christian?”

What? “No, Damien, this is about us. Whatever it is that this is,” I pause, his words going through my brain. Body ablaze. “You think I killed your father for fucks sake. Do you actually want anything to do with me or are you just horny?”

“Fine. You didn’t kill my—” He looks down at the floor. “Him.”

Fucker. Now I’m mad at two things. One is that he actually listened and stopped touching me. “Then why did you say that? That’s fucked up, even for you!”

He shrugs, meeting my gaze again. “My dad died and I like getting under your skin. And into your clothes.”

“Damien,” Now I’m the one warning him, fists clenching. “You—”

“You like it, Jo,” he says with confidence, crossing his arms. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at dragging Christian along but we both know I’m where you want to be. You love to hate me so I can take control. You know it. That’s why it rocks your world when my cock is deep in that ass.”

“Fuck you!” My cheeks are warm, my body a mixture of anger and heat and I can’t help but push against his chest. I’m pounding, letting the frustration out on his thick body and the less he reacts, the more I want him to feel it. “You said I killed your dad to egg me on? What kind of sick fuck does that?”

“One who has a raging hardon for you,” he says it like he’s chuffed with himself and goddammit, I look right at it.

He’s hard as hell. It’s raging. Bulging.

Closing my eyes, he chuckles like he knows before his chest is on mine again, my hands pinned to the side. “Tell me you don’t want this and I won’t. But don’t lie to yourself. You want me to fix this? Let me.” His lips are close enough that it’s easy to close the distance, his tongue parting my heart-shaped mouth. My body rebels against my mind, giving into pure, lustful sin. Or is it more?

My feet are off the ground and I let out a squeal before my back hits the soft silk sheets on the king-sized mattress. I remember this feeling. And I know what comes next. Laying there, I watch as Damien takes a couple of steps away, eyeing me with that hungry look. That primal gaze.

“Take it off,” he growls. Demands. And it’s like lightning firing through me.

But still, I tease. “Thought you’d want to do the honours.”

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