Page 36 of Kiss the Villain

I realize I’ve made a mistake too late.

In the split second of distraction, Kayden’s grip tightens on my waist, and before I can react, he flips me over, pinning me beneath him. I try to inject the rest of the drug, but his hand comes down hard, slapping my wrist and forcing me to remove the needle as he knocks the syringe from my grasp. It falls to the pillow, just out of reach. I strain, trying to wriggle free, fighting to push him off, but it’s like trying to move a mountain.

Then, in an instant, a large, strong hand wraps around my throat.

I can’t breathe.

The pressure tightens with terrifying speed, and my airway is cut off in a fraction of a second. Kayden looms over me, his massive body a solid, overpowering wall. The snake tattoo on his skin seems to shift, the cold ink twisting into something more real—more deadly—like the predator it’s meant to be, ready to strike. I can feel its fangs at my throat, and I know with brutal clarity that if he wanted to, he would strangle me to death.

While having that impassive look in his eyes.

And for a brief moment, I can see myself.

Dead eyes. Empty insides.

I gasp for breath that doesn’t exist, clawing at his fingers and kicking my legs, but he’s sitting on them, and I can’t move much.

Through my blurry vision, I watch as he easily grabs the syringe and lifts it, the needle glinting in the dark.

“Let’s see how good this stuff is.”

He lowers his hand from my neck, and as I choke on air, he jams the needle into my skin.

I flail and punch him in the chest, but he injects what remains in the syringe into my veins.

Our harsh breathing echoes in the darkness, turning the silence more oppressive. Apocalyptic, even.

Fuck.

Fuck!

He injected me with the stuff he was supposed to have, and because I wanted to ruin him so thoroughly, I doubled the dose when I got it from my dealer. In his words, “It’ll make you forget about reality and beg for more.”

I was supposed to see Kayden on his knees. Not get a taste of my own medicine.

Fuckingagain.

I barely think about how I had a needle that was inside someone else in me. My slightly germophobic side is overpowered by a stronger side. The one that absolutelyloatheslosing control.

His weight disappears from on top of me, and I watch in complete and utter bewilderment as he stands up and turns on the light.

Fully fucking naked.

He was covered by the sheet earlier, so I didn’t know he was actually sleeping naked.

Soft yellow light bathes the room as he looms over the bed where I’m lying. The muscles in his chest contract, making the snake appear monstrous.

I’ve seen countless men naked—in the gym and after football practice in high school. All the time. And I never looked at them twice.

Or with curiosity.

Hell, I truly despise it when Niko walks naked around the mansion because he “has a beautiful body and doesn’t like to hide it.”

And yet, right now, I can’t stop staring.

Objectively, I can admit he has a body that demands attention. It’s the kind of physique that’s the result of taking workouts and physical discipline seriously. Chiseled muscles that carve through his skin, an eight-pack that seems almost too perfect to be real, and veiny-toned arms that speak of raw power beneath the surface.

My throat dries—due to the stupid drugs, no doubt.

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