Page 27 of Unholy Nights

My heart's beating so fast I wonder if he can hear it. "They're... um..." I swallow hard, twisting the fingers of my right hand in the hem of my hoodie while I tighten my grip on his with my left. I don’t want to chance him pulling away when he hears the words already climbing their way up my throat. "Sometimes you're in my room at night in them."

"Am I?" The interest in his voice makes me shiver. He doesn’t sound grossed out the way I thought he would. "And what do I do in these dreams of yours?"

"You..." My voice comes out barely above a whisper. "You touch me. And whisper things to me in the dark."

Instead of saying anything, he makes a sort of rumble sound in his chest, almost like he’s… satisfied? I find myself gripping his hand tighter where our fingers are intertwined, and his fingers flex against mine like he’s daring me to try to let go.

"And how does that make you feel?" he asks finally, his voice quieter now, pulling the words out of me before I can even think.

I swallow hard, staring at the glowing dashboard lights because looking at him feels impossible. "I don’t know," I admit, the words trembling out of me. "It’s... confusing. I shouldn’t like it. Should I?"

"Why not?" He asks it so simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

"Because it’s you," I whisper, the admission tasting bloody and raw, as if speaking it aloud has carved something out of me.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. His gaze is unrelenting as it holds mine, and I feel stripped bare. It’s like he can see every thought I’m too afraid to admit. "And do you think that changes the way I see you?" he asks, his voice dipping lower.

I shake my head, gripping my knees, my palms damp against the fabric of my jeans. The stoplight glows red, holding us in this unbearable pause, and all I want is for it to change so I can breathe again. "I don’t know what to think," I admit, my chest tightening. "I just—" The words catch, breaking apart before I can finish.

His fingers shift against mine, firm but careful, like he knows exactly how to steady me without saying a word. "There’s nothing wrong with those feelings, Emerald," he says. "They’re natural. Beautiful. You don’t have to fight them."

There’s this weird pull in my chest that I don’t know how to deal with as I sag back into the plush leather and stare at our joined hands. I don’t even bother trying to look at him, but I feel his eyes burning into me, stripping away my resistance. "But... I shouldn't feel this way. It's not... I mean, I don't know how to..."

"That's why you have me." His thumb strokes over my knuckles, leaving tingles behind. "To teach you everything you need to know."

From the moment he married my mother and moved into our home last year, Cohen’s been the only one to see past my perfect daughter act. The only person who makes me feel real instead of like some mindless wind-up doll.

The only one I want, even though I shouldn't.

I don’t bother saying anything about him teaching me. I’m not sure what he means and I’m too afraid to ask.

His fingers tighten around mine, the car swerving slightly before he corrects it. When I dare to peek at him, thestarvationin his expression makes my stomach flutter with butterflies made of fire.

Why is he looking at me like that?

"How did it make you feel? Dreaming of me?" The roughness in his voice ripples through me, scattering every thought I try to hold onto and leaving me with nothing but the wild, aching pull of him.

I should lie. Should tell him I was horrified. Instead, I whisper the truth: "Alive."

The sound he makes is pure animal, and he slides our joined hands higher up on my thigh, his grip possessive as my skin catches fire underneath it. The heat of his touch burns through my jeans.

"Good," he says, and that single word drips with so much he doesn’t say.

We sit in a silence so charged it feels like it could spark if either of us dared to speak. His hand is wrapped around mine and pressed against my thigh the entire time, his thumb rubbing circles into my flesh. As we pull up to Emmitt's building, I realize something that should terrify me:

I think I may be falling into darkness, and I don't want anyone to catch me but him.

Control is slippingthrough my fingers like blood from a fresh wound, and for once, I don't want to stop it.

Her scent lingers in the air of my Aston Martin, a heady mix of innocence and awakening lust that makes my cock throb with every inhale. I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles going white as I try to focus on the road instead of the way her thighs press together, the slight tremor in her breathing, the way her teeth worry at her bottom lip.

Fuck, I want to bite that lip myself. Want to suck it between my teeth and tug until she whimpers, until she begs me to teach her everything.

But not just yet. There's vermin to exterminate first.

I pull up to Emmitt's sleek downtown office building, a glass and steel monstrosity that screams new money and overcompensation. It's the kind of place that tries too hard to impress, much like its owner. My jaw clenches as I eye the place, imagining all the ways I could burn it to the ground with Emmitt inside.

"Are you okay?" Emerald's soft voice cuts through the red haze of my thoughts. I turn to find her watching me, those big green eyes wide with concern. She's fidgeting with the hem ofher hoodie, looking small and unsure in a way that makes my chest ache.

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