Page 114 of Sweet Venom
“Is that new start anywhere to be seen? Because you just came back right into my claws, Violet. Three months of slumbering did you no favors.”
“Well, they kept me away from you and your suffocating attention.”
I realize I’ve spoken too much when he narrows his eyes to slits. “Right. Risking death isdefinitelyworth escaping me.”
“You would’ve killed me anyway.”
“If I wanted to kill you, no one would’ve been able to stop me, Violet. Not Julian and not fucking Kane. The only reason you’re not buried six feet under is becauseIchose not to put a bullet in your pretty little head. Are we clear?”
My lips part because he sounded…offended? Maybe I’m being naïve again, but I believe Jude over Julian. It’s probably because Jude never lied to me, and he’s too straightforward to play games.
I swallow. “Am…I still a target?”
“No.”
For some reason, that doesn’t send relief through me. “Then why are you here?”
He lifts a brow. “I told you I’d see you tomorrow last night, remember?”
My heart stutters, thudding harshly behind my rib cage.
No. No, no, no, no…
“That was not… It’s not…” I stop talking because I’m sweating, my ears are heating, and my eyes are so wide, I think they’ll bulge out.
“It’s not what?” He cocks his head to the side. “You swallowed my cum like a good girl after you finger-fucked your tiny cunt for me?—”
I place both hands on his mouth as I study my surroundings, and I feel his lips curving beneath my palms.
“Shut up.” I drop my hands. “It was just a dream.”
“Sure. Let’s call it that when I shove my cock into your tiny cunt the next time.”
“Stop that, Jude.”
“Mmm.” There’s a glint. No, a smile. How the hell does this man even know how to smile?
He’s done it twice now, and it’s giving me an existential crisis.
“I like the sound of my name in your voice.”
My lips part, but I clear my throat. “Just…forget what happened last night. I thought it was a dream.”
“Do you dream about me a lot?”
I step back, or try to anyway, because his grip forbids me from creating any form of distance. He’s so close, and his scent is so overwhelming; my body is reacting, and my brain is a jumbled mess.
“Tell me, Violet. Am I the fantasy man you write about and dream of?”
He read my journal.
Damn it, of course the freaking stalker would.
God. This is so embarrassing.
If the earth could split open and swallow me whole, that would be awesome. Thanks.
“Did you touch yourself to memories of me every night?” His low voice sends shivers through me.
