Page 26 of Stalker's Toy

His too-blue gaze pins me like a butterfly on display. “No. Isn’t it obvious, Miss Cohen?”

I swallow hard. “You want to see more of me? ”

"See, one time, it's not enough." He prowls closer, his silhouette monstrous against the flickering lights of his studio. "I'm nowhere near capturing your essence, Mia. This secondary ‘cleaning’ job I’ve offered you, it is what you think."

A shudder ripples through me at the sound of my name on his lips.

It feels intimate, forbidden.

“Your discomfort intrigues me.” His voice resonates with dark delight as he moves to clean his brushes. “I can't wait to explore it further."

He’s enjoying this—every second of it—reveling in the power he holds over me.

“I won’t hurt you.” His assurance does nothing to calm the storm within me. “Unless you want me to.”

There’s a promise woven into the words that sends my heart fluttering against my ribcage.

A threat or a temptation?

In the realm of Henrik Lindberg, both seem equally likely.

I stretch a bit further, spreading my legs out more.

Henrik's eyes gleam with mischief as he sets his paintbrush aside, the canvas now a testament to the intimacy of the artwork he’s created.

He rises from his seat, closing the distance between us with a prowling grace that sends a shiver down my spine.

"You're a fascinating enigma, Mia Cohen," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the scars on my arm.

His touch electrifies me, awakening a hunger that's as intoxicating as it is alarming.

My heart races, and I can't help but feel exposed under his scrutiny.

I've never been one to crave the spotlight, yet withHenrik, I find myself wanting to bare my soul—and my body—to him.

He snickers, those icy blue eyes of his glinting with a wickedness that sends my heart racing. "I'm going to devour you, Mia," he says, his voice low and husky. "Every inch of you."

The promise in his words sends heat coursing through me, and I know I shouldn’t want this.

I know I shouldn’t want him.

"You look like you want to eat me up," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Henrik's eyes darken, and with a swift, calculated motion, he drops to his knees before me.

The cool air of the room brushes against my bare legs, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

He looks up at me, his eyes filled with a hunger that mirrors my own.

"You're mine now," he growls, his voice barely controlled. "Mine to taste, mine to touch, mine to possess."

I don't deny him, even though I know I should.

Instead, I let out a breathy gasp as he presses his mouth to my inner thigh, his tongue tracing a path of fire along my skin.

With each flick of his tongue, each nip of his teeth, I feel myself slipping further under hisspell—further into the abyss of pleasure and desire that threatens to consume me.

Henrik's hands grip my hips, pulling me closer to him, his mouth now mere inches from my most intimate of places.

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