Page 215 of His To Erase
A slow breath leaves his chest like he’s trying not to lose his temper. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His words wrap around my spine and squeeze. I hate that I lean closer without meaning to. I want more—more truth, more lies, more of him.
“Then say something, Steven. Anything. Just tell me something real.”
He stares at me like I’m a problem he can’t solve and he’s one second from forcing the answer or burning the whole thing to the ground.
“I don’t want to lie to you.”
The words hit soft and I still feel them. Right in the part of me that keeps stupidly hoping he’s not the villain I already know he is. I swallow hard, but it catches in my throat like a splinter.
“But you don’t want to tell me the truth either.”
Silence. Figures.
I rip my wrist free and spin, grabbing the first thing I can find—my mail. I whip it across the kitchen and it smacks the fridge before sliding pathetically to the floor.
That’s when he moves. One second I’m alone, and the next his arm is banded around my waist—hard—dragging me back into his chest like I never had a choice. His other hand buries in my hair, pulling just enough to arch my spine, and my wholebody betrays me—again. I’m wet, and strung so tight I could snap.
I twist in his grip, teeth bared. “Let me go?—”
“You want to hate me?” he growls against my neck. “Good. Hate me.”
Then his mouth is on my skin—biting me, and I melt for him. My body says yes even when my pride is screaming no. I’m so fucking pissed off and horny right now, I don’t know what I want more. A fight or him.
“You want the truth?” His voice drops, and it’s meant to wreck me. “I think about fucking you every time I close my eyes. I could spend the rest of my life inside you and it still wouldn’t be enough. I think about dragging you to your knees and making you forget why you ever said his name out loud.”
He steps closer, crowding out my breath. “Not just until you forget him—until the only thing you know is me. My hands. My voice. My fucking name in your mouth.”
I should move or something. But all I can do is stand there and burn. My legs buckle the second his hand starts to slide down, and his fingers slip beneath the waistband of my jeans like he’s done it a thousand times in his head.
God help me—he’s not the kind of man you survive. He’s the kind you choose to drown in. And I’ll happily do it.
“You’re just too busy playing detective to realize you’ve already chosen me.”
“I haven’t?—”
“You’re home.”
He spins me around and lifts me onto the counter as his mouth crashes into mine—and it’s devastating. I taste metal and anger and everything I shouldn’t want but do.
He tears my shirt off over my head.
“Still think you can lie to me?” he hisses, fingers trailing down my spine like a fucking promise of what’s to come. I digmy nails into his chest—hard enough to leave marks. “Still think you’re the one in control?”
His eyes flash with heat, then he drops to his knees. There’s nothing reverent about it—no softness, no pause. Just hunger. That cold, ruthless obsession burning in his gaze as his hands yank my jeans down in one brutal motion.
He drags my panties down next, cursing under his breath like they dared to get between him and what’s his. And before I can even take a breath—He’s on me.
His mouth locks to my cunt licking through my slit until my knees start to buckle. Then he finds my clit. His tongue does sharp, filthy flicks that make my whole body seize.
“Steven—fuck—” I gasp, and my head falls back, while my fingers scramble to grab the edge of the counter behind me.
He moans into my pussy and I feel his arms hook around my thighs, dragging me closer until I can’t do anything but take it. His tongue slides deeper, licking into me like he wants to memorize the shape of my cunt from the inside out.
“Please—”
“I want to bury myself so deep in you, you forget every man who ever touched you before me.”
