Page 37 of Ravaged Saints

The next one catches my attention.

My stomach clenches a little, and I roll my eyes. Maybe Max fits the “authoritative” part with his sharp commands and piercing stares. But formal? Not a chance.

I skim past the next one quickly.

Nope. Not touching that thought with a ten-foot pole.

The fourth description makes my breath catch.

Knox’s smirk flashes in my mind, the way his eyes burned when he cornered me in the woods, but I shake my head, pushing the thought away. That doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t. I’m projecting what I’m reading into the guys. They were soldiers; of course they are more dominant than the men I knew, right?Right!

Oh my God, I’m talking to myself now…

I force myself to read the last one, but it doesn’t help.

My throat tightens; oh, come on! That’s Knox! The way he chased me, pinned me down like I was prey and he was the predator, the way his breathing deepened like he was savoring every second of the hunt like it was a game.

I drop the magazine onto the bed, the heat in my cheeks unbearable. “This is ridiculous,” I mutter, pressing the heels of my hands to my face, but even as I try to convince myself, my body betrays me.

My fingers brush the edge of the magazine again, curiosity clawing at me. What’s wrong with me?

I hesitate before flipping to the next page. My heart is racing again, like I’m stepping into dangerous territory just by reading this stuff.

I skim the first one.

A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. Well, that’s definitely not me. I don’t go around challenging authority, do I? I bite my lip, suddenly remembering the way Knox forced me to eat and called me a brat, and my stomach twists. That’s just a word people use, right? It doesn’t mean anything! It’s not sexual or whatever this is!

I move on quickly.

Nope. That’s not me either.

The next one stops me in my tracks.

Bryn’s face pops into my head, and I can’t help but smirk. If anyone fits that description, it’s her with the way she flirts and tries to keep everyone happy.

My eyes skim down to the next.

I wince. No, not my thing. Why would someone enjoy pain?

The next one makes me pause.

I snort and shake my head. Nope. But I can’t help noticing how much these labels make me second-guess everything.

The list goes on, each description poking at my already frayed nerves.

I slam the magazine shut, the sound echoing through the quiet room. “This is insane; I’m going insane,” I mutter to myself, pressing my fingers to my temples.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. I need some air. I needsomethingto do before I lose my mind here. They can’t keep me locked up forever, right?

I glance toward the door, my resolve wavering. I’ve been good. I haven’t tried to run, and honestly, right now, I don’t think I want to. Bryn was right about one thing: we’re safer here. Even if they’re men, even if they make my head spin with their stupid smirks and damn sexy voices… they’ve been respectful. They haven’t crossed any lines.

Well… Max and Dante did cross some lines, but they’re the lines I was more than eager to cross too.

Dante asked if I wanted to kiss Max, and I didn’t say no. The way Max leaned into me, not touching me with anything but his lips… God, he smelled so good and tasted so sweet. His lips were soft, too soft for someone like him, and those hazel green eyes—how they locked on mine while his tongue teased me—made me melt.

I grab the water bottle from the nightstand, unscrew the cap, and pour a bit onto my face. The cool shock helps, but only a little because my mind won’t stop racing back to Dante when he rose to his full height, towering over me, his hand gripping my ass. I don’t think I’ve ever been wetter. The heat of his body, the hardness pressing against my stomach—it should’ve made me panic, but instead, I wanted him. I wantedthem both.

I shove the magazines from hell back into the closet, hiding them under the blankets, and hopefully from my mind too, although I think the damage is done.

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