Page 54 of Red My Lips

“You’re lying,” I say without conviction, doubt taking over.

“You keep your vibrator in the fridge, there’s a sparkly taser in your third dresser drawer, and you keep your stash of poker tips in the vent behind your vanity.” Gage’s eyes burn into mine, reaching into my body to steal my soul. And this time, they catch a hold. “The first thing you do when you get home after a night out is take off your bra. You sleep like the dead. Once your head hits the pillow, nothing can wake you—a tornado, a fire alarm, not even having your makeup taken off.”

Every word that leaves his mouth has a thrill running through me, my mind racing as I process. He’s been here. There’s no denying it, as much as I want to. When I was awake, Gage was always in the corner of my eye and in the back of my mind. While I was sleeping, he was in my living room and my kitchen. He was in my bedroom.

I want him in me.

The image of him standing over me, nothing but a dark shadow, while I slept, has arousal pooling between my legs. How his unrelenting eyes must have touched every part of me while I was completely oblivious, unconscious. Did he touch himself while he watched me? Did he touch me?

God, I want him to touch me.

What does he want from me?

He holds up the knife and takes a step forward—my responding step back has me pressing against the wall. “What were you planning on doing with this, little devil? Bleed me dry like the others?”

His question has the blood freezing in my veins. This feels like a trap, I’m not admitting to anything. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I should be insulted that you lump me in with those scum-suckers.” Holding the blade up to the light, he gazes at it thoughtfully. “But the look on your face when you sank this blade into them was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—you’re a fucking goddess. If letting you cut me open means I get to put that look on your face, then don’t stop cutting until my heart can no longer pump blood for you to spill. And take your time so I can enjoy it.”

The oxygen is being sucked out of the room with every syllable that passes through his lips until I’m light-headed.

He saw me.

Eyes widening slightly in surprise, my lips part to inhale a short gasp at his confession. His heavy attention lowers to my mouth.

“I like your lipstick. This color is going to look beautiful smeared on my cock. Who is it?” He leans closer. “Jonas?” Swiping his thumb down my bottom lip to smear it, he tilts his head thoughtfully. “No, Vince.”

My eyelids flutter at the revelation, adrenaline and desire flooding through me. “You know about that?”

“I know everything.” The longing in his gaze slices through me until I can hardly take it.

He sees me.

“Why are you telling me all this? Why now?” I ask, shaking my head. It doesn’t make sense. I can’t wrap my head around it. I can’t trust it.

“You wanted to see what I’ve got, so I’m showing my hand.”

“What game are you playing, Gage?”

This time, he doesn’t smile at the sharp, threatening edge in my voice. The sober expression remains on his devastating face, silencing any skepticism picking in my brain. His eyes hold mine in a passionate connection that even death couldn’t sever.

“No more games, Jill,” he says, and I feel it so deeply in my chest it almost hurts. The discomfort is delicious. “There’s no life without you, and I’m done wasting time pretending there is. My dark soul’s found its match. I’m here to collect.”

“Soulmates?” The word leaves my mouth softly and it tastes good on my tongue.

“Soulmates, twin flames, my other half—call it what you want. We’re created for each other. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you.” His hand circles my throat as he inches closer until we’re chest to chest. I know he can feel my heartbeat thrumming against his fingertips. “Tell me you feel it.”

“I—” My brain is short-circuiting as it spins, races, trying to process what’s happening. Emotions swirl through me—panic, excitement, lust, elation, doubt—until I’m not sure which one will catch hold.

Gage has challenged me, has matched me at every turn. He’s proven to be my equal in every aspect of my life. He takes everything I throw at him eagerly, giving it right back to me and begging for more. The darkness twisting inside him matches mine, edge for edge, like pieces of shrapnel born from the same catastrophe.

Desire has never been a question; I want him, and he’s very clearly always wanted me—needed me. And at some point, I started needing him and there’s no going back.

But is that enough? Can I trust this?

Trust him?

Gage waits in complete silence for me to speak, not moving a single muscle. I open my mouth to respond. Unsure of what will come out, I let my instincts take over.

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