Page 21 of Merciless

“Didn’t have you down as the Boy Scout type. Thought you’d have been too busy setting bugs on fire and gutting soft fluffy bunnies.”

His eyes shoot to mine, and without saying a word, he confirms my suspicions.

“I’ve never hurt a bunny. I tend to stick to things like raccoons and beavers.”

“Oh, because that’s so much better,” I mutter as he starts working on my second wrist.

“Why? Did you know someone who had a pet beaver?” I can’t help but smirk. “Don’t answer that,” he mutters after realizing what he said.

Dropping to his knees before me, he works on my ankles.

The second his hand connects with my leg, a bolt of electricity shoots through me.

And fuck if he doesn’t notice it as well.

“Don’t be flattered. It’s been a while,” I hiss.

“A whore like you? I find that hard to believe.”

This time when his fingers brush down my calf, his actions are calculated and designed to weaken my resolve.

What Reid seems to be forgetting in this whole game between us is that I’m just as skilled as he is when it comes to manipulating people.

You don’t spend your entire life around twisted cunts like I have and not learn a thing or two about how to make people—mainly men—bend to your will.

It’s why Victor plucked me right out of my happy—although utterly unsatisfied—life with Mav and offered me the job he did.

Unlike almost everyone else I’ve ever met, he saw my worth. Although, I really fucking wish he hadn’t.

As Reid secures my ankle to the unmoving chair, I shift as if I’m uncomfortable and shamelessly spread my thighs.

His head is at the perfect height and like the predictable male that he is, his eyes lift—albeit briefly—and lock on my lace-covered pussy.

Every man’s kryptonite.

Well, almost every man. Other than my husband, I’m yet to come across one I’ve been unable to manipulate with a few promises of getting a taste.

“Nice try,” Reid murmurs as he ties off my first ankle then moves to the other.

“What?” I ask innocently.

“You do know who I am, right?” He growls, the roughness of his deep voice rolling through me like a wave. Giving me feelings that I really should not be having right now. Although, I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve always been a little twisted where sex is concerned.

A product of my upbringing, I guess.

A laugh tumbles from my lips. “You think there’s anyone in this town who doesn’t know who you are?”

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. I know I’ve just well and truly stroked his twisted ego.

“There,” he says, pushing to his feet and taking a large step back to admire his handiwork.

“I’m glad you’re proud of yourself. You really are your father’s son, aren’t you? Sick bastard,” I spit.

It’s not until the hint of a smirk twitches at his lips that I realize what I just said.

Lock it down, Alana.

Just because he has a pretty face and a hot body, doesn’t mean you need to lose your head.

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