Page 61 of Nightmare

“What does it matter what I think of you?” I ask, the salty tears burning my eyes.

“It doesn’t.”

Shaking my head, I turn, but he lashes out, stopping me. He swings me around until my body slams into his, and there, he locks me into place with an arm around my waist. I press my hands to his chest to push him away, but I’m not strong enough. He looks down at me with an expression that, if I didn’t know better, I would say was full of lust and need.

“Wasn’t the first, won’t be the last, but I can tell you that I would never take the life of someone good. While I’m breathin’, I’m goin’ to do everythin’ I can to take the filth out of this world.”

I want to hate him for that, but I can’t.

Not when he spent a huge part of his life behind bars for something he didn’t do.

I would want vengeance, too.

“Please let me go,” I say, inhaling a jagged breath. “I want to go home.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go.”

With that, he releases me, and we both walk back to his truck. I’m freezing, and I just want to have a hot shower and forget this entire day ever happened. I don’t have it in me to argue when he begins driving me home, leaving my car at the club. I don’t argue when we arrive and he follows me inside my apartment.

Turning to him as he closes the door behind him, I stare into the most pitiful, damaged brown eyes I’ve ever seen, and my heart races. I shouldn’t be thinking of anything else in this moment except wanting him gone, but all I can think about is how good he looks standing there, wet, his hair sticking to his forehead, little droplets of water dripping from his beard, his big jacket soaking. Slowly, his eyes never moving from mine, he shrugs his jacket off, revealing his black tee stuck to his perfectly sculpted chest.

I hold my breath.

He takes a step toward me.

A challenge almost. He’s testing the waters. Seeing if I’ll step back.

I don’t.

I keep my eyes locked on his as he takes the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, revealing that breathtaking body. I haven’t seen him without a shirt, and it takes the air clean out of my lungs. Hard rigid lines of muscle bound under smooth, inked skin. Every single inch of his flesh is covered with marks, marks from a tattoo gun, marks that cover up his beautiful body. I don’t even know where to start or finish when it comes to his tattoos, but I do know they only add to how utterly terrifying he can be.

Fingers fumbling together, I try to keep my body still as he continues to approach me, like a lion hunting its prey. Slowly, his eyes transfixed, almost as if I make one move and he’ll have me on the ground in a matter of seconds. Chest rising and falling, I tip my head back and look at him when he is in front of me, his skin almost burning hot as his body head radiates over to mine.

“We can’t,” I protest, very weakly.

“We can.”

I shake my head with confusion, but he doesn’t elaborate.

He reaches for my chin, just like he did earlier, and he curls his big fingers around it, tipping my head back.

“I’m goin’ to fuck you.”

Eyes widening, I gasp.

I’m speechless, I have no words.

My body reacts even before I get the chance to talk myself out of his. My panties become damp, and I squeeze my legs together in a poor attempt at stopping my arousal.

“You’re goin’ to do as I say.”

I try to shake my head, but he doesn’t let it move.

“You don’t want it?”

His voice is gravelly, deliciously rich, and I can’t help the throbbing that slowly increases between my legs.

Do I dare?

---