Page 119 of Kiss the Villain

My steps falter at the doorway.

He’s not there.

The images from my nightmare seize me, wrapping tight around my throat. I claw at my collar, trying to loosen its suffocating grip.

Jethro’s and Simone’s warnings replay in my mind on an endless loop:They will find him. It’s only a matter of time.

I used to be one of the "they" Jethro and Simone—the closest people to me—talked about. Hell, I was at the top of the list.

But now, every fiber of my being rebels against that thought.

My pulse steadies slightly when I hear the sound of the shower running.

The fact that my ears were ringing so loudly I missed it should set off alarms, but I don’t care. I need to see him—to confirm that the little menace is breathing and intact. That he’s not the disfigured version from my nightmare.

I step into the bathroom and stop dead.

Gareth stands behind the glass door, and I have a perfect side view of his lethal body.

The sound of water hitting the tiles fills the room as steam swirls in the air, curling around the edges of his glistening chest. Rivulets of water trace the lines of his muscles, accentuating skin I’ve started to memorize.

His body looks to be carved from marble, the curve of his spine the most perfect fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

My cock throbs at the sight of the purple and red marks on his back—most of them on his ass. Traces of my teeth, handprints, fingers.

And I want to add more.

I want to mark him so completely that no one will dare come near him again.

Not Morgan, not Cherry.

Notanyone.

He tips his head back slightly, droplets catching in his shimmering blond hair as he reaches two fingers to his ass. His eyes close, a faint frown appearing between his thick brows as he bites his lower lip.

Fuckthis.

All remnants of my control snap.

I make quick work of pulling off my shirt, sweatpants, and boxers before striding toward the shower.

Gareth is so focused, he doesn’t even notice me opening the glass door.

I step in behind him, the water soaking me instantly as I press my chest against his back and wrap my hand around his wrist. “You’re struggling to get my cum out, baby? Let me help.”

He jerks his head in my direction, and his eyes are so green, so bright, it’s almost blinding to look at him.

“G-get out!” he snaps, but he also stutters. He’s always been a pool of contradictions, my little monster.

“I said I’ll help with my pussy.” I tug his hand free and then push him against the glass door.

We’re right across from the mirror, so I can see his cock bulging against the glass, the ridges of his muscles pressing against the fogged-up surface.

He wasn’t this hard when I was watching him earlier, so his cock is performing a standing ovation for me.

I like that.

“Mmm.” I jam my knees between his thighs and thrust my index and middle fingers inside him.

---