Page 77 of Ravage

Something red catches my eye poking out from under his bed, and my free hand slips under, pulling it toward me. It scrapes along the concrete, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the familiar mask.

It's the same red mask he wore when he pulled me out of that white room, the hard plastic feeling cold under my fingers.

Curiously, I lift it into my lap, letting my hand fall away from his leg. Picking it up, I let the irrational thoughts win, sliding it over my face. I want to see what it looks like from the other side, whether it's comfortable with good visibility. Considering it was late when they found me, I have to wonder if it obstructed their vision in the dark hallways… if the way he fought and defended me against the guards was beyond basic skill.

Surprisingly, the black mesh over the eye sockets doesn't hinder my vision as much as I thought it would. I can see perfectly fine—especially when Damon finally swings his gaze back to me, astonishment on his face.

"What are you doing?" he asks quickly.

I smile at him but quickly realize he can't see that. So, I tilt my head to express my curiosity and innocence. "Nothing," I reply, deliberately using his own frustrating words against him.

Putting my hands on my thighs, I straighten up, staring directly at him. Something flashes in his eyes, his leg dropping from his chest as he scoots to the edge of the bed. He drops his legs on either side of me, leaning forward to glance down at my kneeling frame.

"Avery," he growls.

"What?" I shoot back. "Red not my color?"

We stare at each other for a few seconds longer, until he reaches out, lifting the mask off my face. It rests on the top of my head, my eyes still holding his.

"Fuck it," he snaps.

The air cackles with electricity as he rushes forward, smashing his lips to mine. It's forceful, almost desperate. Our tongues clash as I melt into him, his arms snaking around my back. I'm hoisted up from my kneeling position, clumsily falling into his lap.

There's a small clang as the mask falls off the top of my head, bouncing along the ground, but I'm too caught up in the taste of surprise whiskey to care.

Heat ignites in my stomach, more irrational thoughts winning as I throw my arms around his neck. It feels too good to worry about thewhat-ifsand theshould-I.

This feels right. I can't explain why.

My chest pushes into his as a hand slides firmly down my spine. When it reaches the waistband of my shorts, he doesn't stop, dipping under the fabric to glide over my ass.

I let out a tiny moan when he grabs my ass firmly. My fingers skate through his hair, tugging on the strands.

I take back what I said about whiskey, because on his lips, it's my new favorite thing.

His hand slips further south, slightly brushing against my pussy and he groans into my mouth. My own moan seems to pull him from his trance, his body suddenly tensing up.

Damon doesn't move his hand away though, his forehead pressed against mine. We're both slightly breathless, our lips barely touching now.

"Avery," he murmurs, my name sounding like a sin on his lips.

I pull back slightly, checking his face for regret.

"Damon…"

Chapter 27

Grey

I smile to myself as I glance down at the screen of the cell, my fingers quickly typing out a reply.

Knowing that Avery is missing me already, as much as I'm missing her, makes this a little easier.

I hate being away from her—even for a second. If I had my way, we'd never leave my bed. Hell, even the library.

Fuck me. Especially the library.

I've replayed our last library visit dozens of times in my head. It's bad enough that I'm constantly turned on and eerily aware in her presence but having visual images to get me through our time apart, is torture.

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