Page 6 of Red Velvet

So fucking cute. She doesn't even know what I'm talking about.

Her eyes fixate on mine, waiting, provoking an explanation for my alleged insult. A regular person would see nothing but this expectation in her gaze. They would see nothing but a girl who's waiting for a reply to her question.

But I am no regular man.

I can hear the silent call she sends out.

It's a calling coming from a place deep within herself. A place she may not know exists because she's never met someone who could show her, someone who understands, someone who sees her yearning and responds to it without judgment.

Of course, I could always be wrong.

There's only one way to find out.

I step closer, lifting my hand with daunting intention. She flinches but doesn't move away, not even when my fingers close around her throat. I'm not choking her, not even applying any pressure as my hand finds its place on her neck. Her eyes widen, but it's not fear that's written across her face as she looks up at me.

It's bewilderment.

Her body tenses under my aggressive touch, but she doesn't fight me. She doesn't resist, doesn't yell at me, doesn't try to get out of my grip.

I watch closely as she's flooded with emotions she can't place. Her lips part and a gasp escapes in lieu of words, telling me everything I need to know.

I squeeze, just a little, just enough to provoke a reaction from her.

Her eyelids flutter and her gaze loses focus, shifting away from the world, away from the balcony we're standing on, away from the light.

Away from me.

That's enough.

My hold on her loosens, the tips of my fingers still touching the delicate skin of her pale neck when her eyes find their way back to mine. She's flustered, a new red blooming on her cheeks.

She doesn't need to speak. I can read it all on her face. The amazement spiced with delicious fear—a sensation she probably didn't know existed.

I’m certain no one has ever touched her like this. No one has ever put her in this place, a place of apparent threat, of helplessness.

A place where all control is taken from her.

A place that scares her as much as it intrigues her.

"Why did you do that?" she breathes. Her voice is thin and shaky, but lacks the reproach I was fearing.

I move away from her, noticing the way her body sways with me, unable to resist the magnetic attraction I can now confirm to be mutual.

"Because you needed me to," I say, offering no further explanation.

She bites her lower lip, still fighting to make sense of what just transcended between us. I expected her to object, to argue that she never asked for me to choke her out of nowhere, to unleash an unimaginative torrent of accusations that may be justified under the circumstances.

But none of that happens. I'm surprised to find her nodding, still biting her lip while she averts her eyes. I'm not going to make it harder on her by probing and forcing her to phrase things she can't comprehend herself. Yet.

But I'm not letting her get away, either.

"Jim never touched you like that, did he?"

She sucks in a sharp breath at my question before she shakes her head. "He was a nice guy."

"But you don't like nice guys."

Her eyes widen as she looks up at me, a clear display of the realization that just hit her.

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