Page 18 of Pretty When He Bleeds

I lean against the stone table, tilting my head to the side as I watch him. There’s something almost feral with the way he’s looking at me—like he doesn’t know if he should hit me again or walk away before he does something worse.

“You gonna lick my lip again?” I ask in a teasing tone, as I swipe at the blood pooling at the corner of my mouth.

Damon freezes, his expression darkening. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“You heard me,” I say, grinning and lifting my shoulder in a shrug. “Last time you couldn’t resist. I thought maybe you’d want another taste.”

His jaw tightens and for a second, I think he might swing at me again. Instead, he steps closer, his voice low and his eyes glinting dangerously. “Keep pushing me, Roman. See what happens.”

My pulse kicks up but I don’t back down. “Maybe I want to find out.”

He stares at me, his gaze burning into mine and the tension between us feels like a livewire, humming and crackling in the space we’re not even bothering to keep anymore. He doesn’t say anything, just holds my gaze as if he’s trying to make a decision.

He hates me.

But he wants me.

I can see it, feel it in the way his breath comes faster, shallower. The way his pupils dilate just enough for me to fucking notice.

I keep my grin in place even though my face hurts. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you, Trouble?”

He bristles. “Thinking about what?” he snaps.

“Licking me again.”

Damon’s nostrils flare and he looms over me even though I’m the one sitting higher. “You’ve got a death wish, Hotshot,” he growls but his voice is unsteady.

“Maybe,” I say and shrug. “Or maybe I just know how to get under your skin.”

He leans in, one hand bracing on the table beside me and I can smell the faint scent of turpentine and cigarette smoke on him. “You don’t know what you’re playing with,” he says, his low voice sounding like gravel scraping against steel.

“And you don’t know how much I don’t care,” I whisper back, meeting his gaze head-on.

The tension between us is thick enough to choke on. He’s close, so damn close, but I don’t move. Hell, I can’t. It’s like I’m rooted in place by whatever the fuck is happening between us.

Damon’s eyes flick down to my lip, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting some internal battle. So I lick the blood away slowly, just to see what he’ll do.

“Stop,” he says, his voice strained.

“Make me,” I say, leaning forward just enough to blur the line between a taunt and temptation.

His hand moves fast, gripping the back of my neck in a way that sends a jolt through me. It’s not gentle—it’s control, plain and simple, and it sends a thrill through me I can’t hide. I’m breathing hard, my blood pounding in my ears and all I can think about is how close he is.

I should hate him, but fuck, it feels good to give up control for a little while.

He slips his knee in between my spread legs and I bite back a groan. “Say it again.”

I smirk even though my pulse is racing. “Make me.”

He tightens his grip on me and my knees feel like they’re about to buckle under the intensity in his eyes. He’s so close that I can see the gold flecks in his eyes, something I know Caleb didn’t have.

“You really want to play this game?” his voice is just brushing the edge of a growl and fuck me, it heads straight to my cock. “You think you can just lick your pretty little lip and make me lose my shit?”

I don’t answer, I fucking can’t because I didn’t think I’d push him this far. He leans in closer, his breath ghosting my ear and I swear I can feel the words before he speaks them. “Think you can handle me? Think you have what it takes to keep up?”

I swallow hard, but I don’t look away. “I can handle you just fine.”

Pulling back, his lips twist into something cruel and mocking. “Yeah? Because from where I’m standing, you look like you’re about two seconds away from falling apart. You gonna beg me next, Hotshot? Beg me to give you what you’re obviously desperate for?”

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