Page 10 of Slaughter

I haven’t seen him in eleven years, yet here he is, standing in front of me. The last time I heard his voice was on my voicemail. He was cold, and his words were sharp like a knife—cutting me from the inside out.

Now he’s standing before me, touching me like he used to.

But looking at me as though he wants to kill me.

I swallow nervously, my tongue suddenly heavy, my mouth instantly dry.

Chest tight and wide-eyed, I look up at the man I once loved. The man who was supposed to love me back.

I finally blink, thinking I’m just hallucinating. All the alcohol I’ve consumed is playing tricks on me. Or maybe someone slipped something in one of my drinks, and I’m really passed out on the floor, having a really bad dream.

My heart pounds, and I can’t breathe. I feel a panic attack coming on. I also haven’t had one of those in years.

He leans into me, his nose tracing my jaw, and my heart stops altogether. I should yell for help, but I know it wouldn’t do me any good. He inhales deeply and whispers against my neck, “You smell just as I remember.” He pulls back and looks down at me, his eyes dropping to my cleavage. They give nothing away; he remains indifferent at seeing me. They lower to my exposed thighs, and I feel heat rush to my pussy. And I hate how my body wants what my mind and heart know is a danger.

Stay away from him! You’ll end up dead!

I try to move my lips to ask him what the hell he is doing here in New York. Standing in front of me in a women’s bathroom nonetheless. But all I can manage is whispering his name. “Avery …”

His hand shoots out, wrapping around my neck, cutting off my words. He spins us around, slamming my back into the closed door.

If he wasn’t cutting off my air, I’d gasp. He never put his hands on me back when he loved me … I stop that train of thought. That was a long time ago. A lot has changed since then.

But the force and his dominance makes my pussy tighten. My legs threaten to buckle, and the room begins to spin. I stare at him unable to move. Still in shock as my eyes look over his sharp jaw and blue eyes. They’ve changed over the years and are darker now. As if he has seen too much evil. They’re still framed with long dark lashes that made me jealous and those soft lips I loved to kiss. And dark hair that I would play with when he slept with his head on my chest. It’s longer now and styled to a messy perfection. He’s what most women would call a fuck-boy. He was once my boy.

His hand loosens to allow me a breath, and his free hand goes between my thighs. Still no emotion in those smoldering blue eyes. His fingers gently crawl upward, setting my skin on fire. He does it as if he owns it. And in a way, he still does. No matter how many men have been there, he always has.

My hands are free, but I don’t push him away. I don’t fight him. I’m not sure what to do. What to say. My mind has shut down, and my body has come alive—it physically shakes with fear and with need.

“Do you still taste as good, Bunny? Like the sweetest fucking piece of candy?” He moans, closing his eyes, and I take a ragged breath. They open and drill into mine. “Goddamn, I can still taste that cunt on my tongue.”

Him saying cunt has me whimpering. He never spoke to me that way back when we were in love. Now he hates me.

I hate him just as much, if not more!

His hand tightens on my throat once again as if he’s reading my mind. My lips part, trying to suck in a breath but get nothing. His eyes trace my lips before they meet mine. I’m reminded his hand is still between my legs when his fingers reach their destination. Without permission, he pulls the black soft fabric of my thong to the side and runs a finger along my pussy. “Are you that excited to see me, Bunny?”

I’m wet.

Soaking. Fucking. Wet.

Goddamn him!

I always was for Avery. He was everything I ever wanted. Until he wasn’t.

He removes his hand from my throat along with my pussy with a look of satisfaction on his gorgeous face.

I’m able to pull myself out of the fog now that he’s no longer touching me. I take a deep breath, and my anger sets in.

I slap him across the face as hard as I can. Eleven years of pent-up aggression released in one hit. His head snaps to the right. The sound bounces off the bathroom walls over the music booming on the other side of the door.

I fist my stinging hand while he turns his gaze back down on me. His dark blue eyes narrow. “I’ll allow you that this one time.” He growls before lifting his hand as if he’s gonna strike me back.

I don’t flinch.

I’ve had worse. My mother used to tell me don’t dish out what you don’t want served back to you. Just because you have a pussy doesn’t give you a pass to put your hands on a man. He’ll retaliate, and it’ll be twice as hard.

But instead, he places it on the door by my head, caging me in, and leans toward me. His overpowering scent almost knocks me to my knees. “Not so sweet and innocent anymore, are you?” My chest tightens, and he knows those words affected me because he gives me the coldest smile I’ve ever seen, freezing me to my core.

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