Page 15 of Primal

I mean, Iwasdreaming—about him and the pleasure he can give me. But the thought of being with him again fills me with dread, because now this craziness is starting up again.

When I look at the space where my knife once was, I’m horrified to see that it’s gone.

“Looking for this?” he asks, echoing the first words he ever spoke to me three weeks ago. His voice is filled with amusement as he holds up the knife and waves it around tauntingly. His words are slightly muffled, and it’s then that I realize his mask doesn’t have an opening for his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper.

He tucks the knife into his boot and says, “I couldn’t stay away any longer, Kiara. I missed you.”

I don’t say anything, because if I open my mouth again, I might actually scream and wake up Grandma. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately, and I want her to get as much rest as she can.

“Did you miss me, too?” he asks again quietly, his smooth, deep voice rumbling over my heated skin.

Yes, I did. I just don’t want to admit it.

This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.

The words are on repeat in my head, trying to convince myself that this man is just a figment of my imagination, and that what he just did to me didn’t actually happen.

“You need to leave,” I say coldly when I’m finally able to speak.

Those deep blue eyes are alight with mischief and amusement as he looks me up and down. It’s then that I remember I’m practically naked.

I snatch the comforter from the foot of the bed and cover myself with it.

“Get out!” I hiss, kicking my feet until my back is touching the headboard.

He reaches out and runs a hand over my leg in a soothing gesture, but I kick at him.

“Why are you being so hostile, Kiara? I thought you liked it when I touched you?”

I swallow dryly, slightly unnerved by his gentle tone. “I do,” I admit through gritted teeth.

A smirk curves his plush lips, and I can see his eyes darken with desire. “So, why are you afraid of me?”

My stomach is churning so badly with nerves. I can’t believe I’m finally saying all of this out loud—and to him, no less. “Because—I liked it. That’s the problem. It’s fucked up. I’m fucked up.”

He scoots closer to me and trails his fingers along the inside of my thigh. Instead of pushing him away, I close my eyes and shiver from the feeling of his skin on mine, the cold metal of his rings cooling my heated flesh.

“If you’re fucked up, then so am I.”

Of course he would say that, because he wouldn’t still be pursuing me if he wasn’t just as crazy as I am. He represents a dark part of me that I thought had been long suppressed until that first night we met. Who gets off on being robbed? Normal people wouldn’t be turned on by their home being broken into, or a complete stranger pleasuring them like his life depends on it.

It’s sick.

Twisted.

But it feels so… right.

Being pushed against the wall at gunpoint, feeling his strong body pressed against me as I shamelessly used his body to chase my climax…

I shake the memory away. “You need to leave,” I say again.

“Not gonna happen,” he retorts.

“My grandmother is right across the hall.”

He just shrugs. “Did you forget what we did in her room when we first met, little butterfly? I don’t care what kind of audience we have when I put my hands on you.”

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