Page 18 of Twisted Devil

“I'm trying so damn hard not to touch you right now. All I've thought about for the past year is you, when I could see you again. Hold you. Kiss you. It's been killing me.”

I took a tiny step forward. I remembered the way he'd held me after I'd escaped, cradled me in his arms like he could protect me from anything and everything. I wanted to feel that way again. Safe. Secure. Cherished. Protected.

I lifted one hand and laid it on his chest. “You're the only man I've wanted since…” I trailed off before continuing. “You’re the only one I trust.”

Whisper soft, he placed his hands on my hips. “You're killing me, Chloe.”

“Please,” I begged. “For me. I want to forget the past and move forward. Please help me.”

“God.” His eyes closed and his fingers curled into my flesh. “You have no idea...” Those dark brown eyes opened and stared into mine. “I stayed away. I tried so damn hard. Tell me you really want this.”

I felt like I was being pulled in two very different directions. All I knew was I didn't want anyone else. No one made me feel the way Jason did. “I don't know,” I admitted on a shaky breath. “I just... I want to try. You're the only person who really sees me. That has to mean something, right?”

“I've seen you, Chloe. Believe me. I...” He trailed off, and my body heated at the sparks of lust in his eyes. “I want to kiss you.”

It wasn’t a question, but he stared at me for several seconds as if seeking approval, and I finally nodded. My breath left my lungs on shallow pants, and Jason stepped forward, eliminating the space between us. He kept his hands on my waist, tight enough that I felt secure but loose enough that I didn't feel trapped.

His head dipped until it was next to mine and I could feel the heat of his breath wafting over my skin as he lightly kissed my cheek. “You're sure, Chloe?”

His mouth was barely an inch from mine, and I turned my head. “Kiss me.”

His lips feathered over mine, achingly tender. I closed my eyes at the sensation, loving the way he held me. Memories pressed in, Wainwright's thick arms around me, choking me, and I sucked in a breath as I battled them back.

Jason lifted away and stared at me. “Good?”

My heart kicked up in my chest, and I forced myself to calm. He was gone. It was only Jason and me now. “Again,” I demanded.

I focused on each sensation streaming through my body, replacing every memory of Wainwright with Jason's touch, his hands on me, his lips on mine. If my request surprised him, he didn't show it. Instead he lowered his head and dedicated himself to the task of kissing me deeper, more sensually.

Watching Jason as he kissed me kept the memories at bay. I studied his face, let his scent fill my nostrils as I ran my hands over his biceps and shoulders, committing every hardened muscle to memory. The tiny flame of desire in my core roared to life, and liquid heat slid through my veins as I melted against him. I wanted all of him. I needed to feel him, needed him to take all the bad away and make me whole again. “I need you. I want—”

“No.” Jason's voice was thick when he pulled away.

I recoiled, the sting of rejection spiraling through my heart.

“You're not some casual fuck.” The press of his fingertips against my lower back implored me to listen. I pushed the dark thoughts away and met his gaze. “I've waited a year for this. I can wait another day. A week, a month... whatever it takes. I want you more than anything, but I want to take this slow. You're going to get to know me, to really trust me.”

The intent in his dark eyes sent a hot shiver of need down my spine. “Because once I make you mine, Chloe... I won't let you go.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

JASON

I wished I could read her mind. Her bright blue eyes swirled with emotion, none of which I could decipher. I knew she wanted this—and so did I. But what I said was the truth. I'd known a year ago that she was different. I wanted to know everything about her. What she liked, what she hated, where she saw herself in five years.

“I'm not fucking you,” I reiterated, “but I'm not letting you go either.”

I slowly slid my hands down to the backs of her thighs, wordlessly showing her my intent. I grasped her bottom and she wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms winding around my shoulders. I carried her to the couch and settled her over my lap. My erection pressed against the front of my jeans, and she dropped her gaze to where it tented the fabric. Her hands slipped down my chest then lower, over my abdomen until she stroked along my cock. “Christ, Chloe. You’re killing me, baby.”

Her eyes widened, almost full of wonder. “You're hard.”

“Hell yes,” I ground out. I’d come yesterday in the shower, her name on my lips, then again in bed before falling asleep. Now she was splayed over my lap, palming my cock. So much for my good intentions. “I'm always hard for you; you're all I want.”

She wiggled her hips, pressing her core closer. “Playing with fire,” I managed.

“I know. I just...”

She needed to regain her confidence, and I understood. “I'm not fucking you,” I clarified once more as I pulled her further onto my cock, rubbing her back and forth. “Just feel, sweetheart. Let go and feel how fucking beautiful you are.”

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