Page 113 of Pretty Poisoned

He shrugs. "No. Why would I leave?"

"I love you," I tell him.

And this time, I did say it aloud, not just in my head. It almost feels like a foreign language, and after it comes out, I'm sure I've done something wrong.

I think I might throw up.

But he smiles. "You do?"

I nod. "Uh-huh."

He leans in and brushes my hair behind my ears. "Say it again."

"I love you. And I know that I haven't known you very long, but…we live together like you said, so that makes our days like…three times everyone else's normal day, right?"

He laughs. "If you say so."

"And I know you're fucking insane, and I don't fucking care. That probably means I'm fucking crazy, too, and I don't care about that, either. You make me happy…and I didn't think I'dever be any better than just okay. I want to carve my initial into your chest; I want to handcuff you to me every night so that you can't leave. I want to crawl inside of your body and live there. Iloveyou."

He shakes his head. "Teagan Townsend…I'm going to write a song about you."

"Yeah?" I climb into his lap. "Make it something painful. Those are always the best ones."

Luca picks me up and carries me to the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind us. He pulls his shirt over his head, rummages through his suitcase for a minute, then sits at the edge of the bed. I take off my own top, kick off my shoes and step out of my jeans, and climb into his lap.

"I didn't bring any handcuffs, but…here," he says. Holding the blade end, he extends a knife to me.

"Really?"

He shrugs. "Yeah."

"Won't it ruin your tattoos?"

"Nah, it'll look good," he says.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

I smile. "Okay."

I push him onto his back and straddle his waist. Then, I dig the tip of the knife into his skin, about two inches below his collarbone, and start on the vertical line for my 'T.' He groans and wraps his hand around my wrist.

"You're going to have to push a little harder than that," he says.

I begin dragging the knife again with his added pressure; blood pools in the wound, then runs down the side of his chest.

It makes me fucking feral. I can't help it; I wriggle my hips against his hard cock while I finish the cut. He grabs my hip with his free hand.

"You better stop that, Teagan," he says. "It's going to be hard for you to make a straight line with my dick inside of you. Be professional."

He thrusts against me, and I moan before leaning down and running my tongue over the cut. Cleaning the area is futile as blood continues to pool and spill from the wound. I close my eyes, relishing the taste of the warm, coppery liquid on my tongue. It's power—vitality, just like Declan said, and Luca gives his to me willingly. I realize I've been craving it for a while.

Luca shifts beneath me, but I'm so distracted that I don't realize what he's doing until I feel his erection against my opening, and he grabs me by the hips and pushes into me.

"Oh, fuck!" I cry out.

"I warned you," he says. "Sit back and finish it."

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