Page 115 of That Sik Luv

“Please don’t think differently of me now,” I beg. “I don’t want this to change—“

“Briony, stop.” He grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I’d never think any less of you.”

His kind eyes find mine again, and his other hand cups the side of my face in a gentle caress. A caress that feels comforting and entirely too good. So good, I close my eyes and relish in it, allowing a sigh to escape my lungs. When I open them, I see that seriousness on his face again. That want. That endless craving of lustful need that just doesn’t know where to go.

Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against mine, our eyes studying each other. His gaze falls to my lips before moving in slowly and pressing his lips to mine. The kiss is soft. It’s caring. It’s sensitive and loving. I open my mouth and he takes the cue, meeting my tongue with a gentle swipe of his. A moan flows from my throat into his mouth as we continue the soft, sensual kiss, his hand sliding down to hold my neck. But just as I’m sure we’re making progress again, he pulls away, breathless.

“We’re just trouble when we’re together, aren’t we?” he says, a wicked little glint in his expression.

I laugh softly along with him.If you only knew.

We walk back towards the edge of the bed, swiping my underwear from the floor before he helps me take a seat beside him.

“But I think that can be a good thing,” he continues, seemingly determined. “It gives us something to work on for our ultimate goals. We can find ways to strengthen each other by resisting the urges that throw themselves before us.” He grins, nudging his shoulder playfully into mine, holding out the panties saturated from my arousal and Aero’s cum back to me. “Think of it as the ultimate test.”

Inside I’m crumbling, not knowing how to turn this around, but on the outside, I’m smiling and nodding like a naïve idiot. I peer down at the floor, my mind attempting to work out this puzzle before me.

I ruined this entirely. I couldn’t tempt him the way I thought I could. I was so confident I could make this man sin with me, but I’d misjudged his strength. I reluctantly slip my legs through the soiled cotton, pulling them back in place beneath my skirt, hating that I love vile act.

“You know, I think you’re right—"

“Briony.” His voice interrupts me and I turn to face him.

But his eyes aren’t locked on me. They’re on my leg. My thigh, to be specific. The thigh with fresh blood smeared down it. The thigh with an arrow and the bottom of a crucifix, clearly visible.

“What is that?”

His hard gaze slowly trails from the wound until it finds mine, and I stiffen in place, holding my breath. My nerves are twisting in the pit of my gut as my nerves are set ablaze. He has an odd look about him. One that’s cold, looking entirely deceived.

My lashes flutter. “I-I can explain...”

“What is that, Briony?” His tone is clipped, and it terrifies me.

My bottom lip quivers as I feel the pain of my betrayal. He knows this was a setup. I can feel it in my bones. There’s no way he couldn’t.

“You finally found my masterpiece.”

The voice is deep and familiar and cuts through the silence like a knife, making my heart pang in my chest like a caged animal seeking freedom.

Saint stands immediately, and in a surprising move, pulls me up and off the bed, shoving me behind him. I peer around his arm to see those piercing hazel eyes beneath the black mask, Aero’s shirtless form covered in those endless marks and scars. Mound of muscle that look tense and taut, as if he’s had a hard time restraining himself, are dressed in nothing but the black pants and combat boots he was wearing earlier. His lengthy frame grows on us with every abominable step he takes.

Saint holds me back, his chest heaving in terror at the presence of an unknown man lurking in the corners of my room.

“It’s him,” he whispers to himself.

Aero’s uneven smirk pulls at his lips through the mouth hole of the mask.

“It’s me.” He pauses in place before us. “But who is him? I’m curious to find out.”

He cocks his head to the side before flipping a butterfly knife open in his hand.

My eyes dart nervously between the two of them. The tension is thick as mud and the room feels as if the familiar walls are caging us in.

The two of them, in the same room, finally facing off.

“Truthfully, it doesn’t matter what you’ve been told,” Aero says casually, flipping the sharp blade with a quick wrist, making a smooth motion with the knife. “You wouldn’t believe me for a second if I gave it to you straight.” He sneers, confidence radiating from his cold, dark eyes.

Saint stands tall before me, a hand reaching back, holding me to him protectively.

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