Page 44 of Pray for the Damned

The soft fabric is pulled up slowly, uncovering my torso little by little as cool air brushes over my overheated skin.

His sharp intake of breath makes me look over my shoulder at him, and I find him staring at the bruising that’s bloomed across my side. Emmett drags my dress over my head, leaving me standing in a mismatched bra and panty set. Why didn’t I think of this when he asked me to play?

His fingers move gently over my bruised ribs, his eyes assessing for pain, but I’m too addicted to his touch to feel anything but need.

“If this hurts at any point, I want you to tell me immediately.”

I nod, but when he gives me a pointed look, I force myself to say, “I will.”

He assesses me for a moment longer before he uses one hand to unclip my bra. Instinctively, my arms fold over my chest. Have I ever been naked in front of a man? Every time I’ve been with someone, it’s been quick and dirty in the back of a car or behind a bar. It’s been an exercise in convenience rather than passion, and it’s left me completely unprepared for this moment.

A sharp pain flashes across my left ass cheek, and a surprised squeak escapes from my throat before I turn to Emmett with wide eyes. “What was that for?” I snap.

“That’s what you get for covering yourself.” He raises a brow at me and nods toward where my arms are still covering my chest.

I must not move quick enough for him because his palm connects with my ass for a second time, and I quickly drop my arms, leaving my breasts bare to him.

A deep rumble escapes his throat as he takes in the pebbled peaks, and I swallow heavily around the nerves that threaten to choke me.

“Lie on the bed, face down,” he commands, and I find myself obeying without hesitation. The satin sheets are cool beneath my hands and knees as I crawl into the center of the bed and carefully lower myself to the soft mattress. “Close your eyes.”

I suck in a breath and do as he says.

The sound of him moving around the room behind me makes it hard to keep my eyes closed, but I find myself sinking into the softness that surrounds me. Fuck, when was the last time I laid on anything other than my lumpy mattress at my apartment? Before I moved in, if I had to hazard a guess. And even then, my bed at my last place was a single mattress in what can only be described as a closet in a shared house, so I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that it wasn’t comfortable.

I’m so distracted by my thoughts that I jolt when the mattress dips beside me, earning me a rough chuckle.

Emmett settles over the backs of my thighs, his bare legs brushing over mine. That’s what he was doing while I was contemplating whether this is the softest surface I’ve ever laid on. He was stripping.

I drag in a breath when his warm palms come down on my shoulders, and his strong thumbs knead into the tense muscles there.

“You’re tight,” he murmurs.

“That’s what she said,” I jest, and earn myself a deep laugh that surprises me as much as it satisfies my need to lighten this moment.

“Your muscles, Little Temptress.”

“I knew what you meant, I just wanted to hear you laugh.” I regret the words almost as soon as they escape my lips. Not because they’re not true, but because somehow that admission seems more intimate than everything we’ve said tonight.

But my worry eases when his answering smile tugs at his lips, telling me the admission may have been vulnerable, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

He works the muscles in my shoulders and upper back for long minutes, until I’m nothing but putty in his hands and my eyes are heavy and relaxed. Moments of peace are rare when you’re on the run, but that’s the only way I can describe this moment.

“Bend over for me,” he murmurs, his voice cutting through the otherwise quiet room as he nods to the leather bench at the end of the bed.

I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and swallow heavily.

If I’m going to do this, I need to be all in, and I have a feeling once I cross this line, there won’t be any coming back from it.

CHAPTER THIRTY

EMMETT

Waverly hesitates for a few seconds, her eyes flicking to the door while she considers calling it quits here and now.

I wouldn’t blame her if she chose to do that, but that doesn’t mean I’d allow her to run from me either. We’re inevitable, even if she doesn’t realize it.

But she pushes herself onto her hands and knees before carefully making her way to the edge of the bed where I’m standing. She steps away from me a moment later, taking careful steps toward the red leather bench.

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