Page 71 of Brutal Obsession

Then… relief?

I tilt my head, confused as to why she’s relieved to discover me. A question for later, though, because she advances again and whacks my chest. Her pretty face is pale, her blue eyes boring into mine.

“You—”smack“asshole—”smack“you—”smack“make me—”smack“CRAZY!”

I have to resist the urge to laugh at her, instead snatching her wrists and pulling her close. Her gaze is wild, and she fights with surprising viciousness. Much better than last night when I caught her unaware.

I drag her with me as I open the back door of my car and force her inside it. I climb in after her and slam the door shut.

“What the fuck?” she demands.

So saucy.

“Say something.” She yanks at her wrists, which I have in one of my hands.

She’s delicate. I could break her bones if I squeezed hard enough.

I reach forward and grab the knife, flicking it open.

She goes still.

I look from it to her. She’s pressed against the far window, her arms extended in front of her. But she’s given up on getting her hands back. With my free hand, I drag the knife over her fingers.

Her tell is her shivers. When she’s found something that intrigues her, that scares her, that pushes her out of her comfort zone.

“Did Jack take your virginity?” I ask, still sliding the knife tip up and down. I’m making a little path over her knuckles, down the edge of her thumb, then back up. “Was he the one who fucked you first, or was it a high school boyfriend?”

Violet loves to give me nothing.

I tsk. “Even your silence tells me what you want to hide. I should know.”

Her eyes narrow.

I release her wrists and flick the knife down, cutting open her leggings on the inside of her thigh. The move is unexpected, and it nicks her skin, too. She gasps, but there’s nowhere for her to go. I’m the fucking wolf, hunting her down. Scenting her blood.

And it wells up so prettily on her pale skin.

“What was that for?” Her voice trembles.

I look up from it. “Not answering my question.”

She twists around and yanks at the door handle.

It doesn’t budge. That one’s tricky. It sticks sometimes. I crawl forward and remove her hand from the door, then kiss her knuckles. I shouldn’t. It feels wrong, like I’m plying her with affection. Something that might give her a sense that I care about her.

“Greyson,” she whispers. “Let me out.”

I shake my head and lean down, licking the strip of exposed skin on her inner thigh. Her blood hits my tongue, and my cock immediately hardens. Fuck. Her blood is warm and metallic, and I suck and bite at the shallow wound.

She groans.

Her hands slide into my hair, tugging me away, but I ignore it. I drag my teeth along her flesh, then lick. Suck. Repeat.

Her thigh shouldn’t be erotic.

Her blood shouldn’t make me hornier than a teenager.

I just fucked her last night, and I want to do it all over again. Savagely.

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