Page 58 of Bound to a Killer
His words snap like a whip, fast and cruel. The thumb on my neck digs deeper, almost like a warning that each breath I take is a mercy he’s afforded me, but can still easily be revoked.
My lips quiver, his gaze dropping to them in an instant. They linger before snapping back to my eyes. “Did you stop at least once to consider that maybe there’s no way to get around the fact that I’m the cause behind your little school friend’s case?” His grasp on my neck remains, but his other hand lifts to tap the side of my head, not too hard but enough to make me flinch. “What about the guy from the cabin invasion, smart girl? Could I get around all of that because my little captivevouchedfor me?”
My heart accelerates. Blood swooshing loud in my ears.
“Tell me,” he whispers, daring me to answer.
I speak before the discomfort can settle between us, before the tension turns suffocating. My tongue flicks out to wet my lip. “I’m not scared of you.”
My voice is strained, barely making it past the tightness in my throat.
His eyes track the movement, narrowing into a mean stare. Like he might turn rabid and sink his bared teeth into me to put me in my place. Teach me a lesson on what and who he is to me. But he doesn’t do it. He just stares at me, his gaze focused on my lips.
“You should be,” he says, the words laced with a cold indifference, contrary to the heated stare he’s still pinning me down with. “I’m not a good guy. Don’t think I won’t hurt you in a second if you step out of line again.”
His threat is meant to scare me. To keep control. To make sure that neither of us spirals so the lines don’t get crossed again.
But I’m past caring. Past pretending this hasn’t already gone too far. That the lines have faded a lot sooner than either of us is willing to admit.
“You really think you could hurt me more than I’ve already been hurt?”
“Baby, I know I can,” he grits out.
Hunger flares behind his eyes, but there’s a hint of fury, too.
“Then do it,” I say, my voice low, shaking. “What are you waiting for? Hurt me.”
I stare straight at him. Daring him to go through with his threat. Go ahead and hurt me. Break me. I want him to unleash everything he’s hiding behind. To acknowledge the real reason he’s been unable to rid himself of me.
And with a low growl, he gives into the madness.
My nerves skyrocket as he grabs me like I belong to him. His hands find the knot at my back, tugging the rope free in one hard pull. My arms drop limp at my sides, my wrists pricklingfrom the pressure. Shoulders stiff as I flinch at his rough hands pawing through my wrinkled clothes that cling to days-old exhaustion and dirt. He strips me bare of everything. My shoes are chucked off with one hand while the other rips the sweatshirt over my head before peeling away my pants.
My skin prickles as the air hits me and my arms fling up instinctively to cover my bare breasts. I’m now sitting in nothing but my white cotton panties, completely bare to him. My heart stutters, but I don’t kick and scream like I should. “W-What are you doing?”
My cheeks flare as his eyes darken on the damp spot that I know is staining the thin, white fabric between my thighs. I drag my knees together, using them as cover in front of my heaving breasts.
“You’re filthy,” he says, his voice tight, his eyes raking over me like he’s assessing the damage he’s already done, waiting for me to break in front of him.
“It’s time we get you cleaned up.”
We.
My head’s swimming with confusion and something far too close to longing. A spike of adrenaline kicks through me, and I know he can hear it with how close he is to me. He slips an arm around my waist and swoops me off the bed, pressing me into his hard chest.
His arm flexes around me as he carries me to the bathroom, lifting a knee to shove the door wider so we can pass through.
He walks over to the pristine shower at the far end of the wall, and before I can catch my breath, he drops me inside. My feet are unstable, legs wobbling as he clamps a firm hand around one of my arms from behind to keep me from slipping.
The tile is cold against my soles. My shoulders twitch as I shift, arms still sore from being bound. I bring them forward, stretching out the ache despite them only being restrained for a shorter time compared to before.
I flinch as I feel his hands on me again, maneuvering me so I’m facing him again. Hands crossed over my full breasts.
The smoldering heat in his eyes is all I see for a breath before he lunges forward, crowding me back until I hit the shower wall. His mouth crashes into mine, urgent and not at all soft like it was the first time I kissed him.
Nothing about him is soft this time.
I whimper at the feeling of something thick and solid pressing into my pelvis, but the sound is caught somewhere in my throat and into his claiming mouth as he pushes his tongue deeper. Our mouths tangle, messy and hungry, and for a moment, everything before this fades from memory as I sink deeper into his frantic kiss with my own passion. A flicker of arousal shoots low, settling into that spot that won’t stop pulsing with need.
