Page 70 of Unraveling Charlotte

“You,” he whispers. “I could cut you right now with an easy twist of my wrist. I’d slice you from here.” He presses the knife tighter against my throat as he rises onto his forearms, then drags the knife carefully across my skin without cutting me. “To here.”

I blink up at Lyric, taking in his features. He’s not wearing his cowl, glasses, or bandana. Those cold eyes stare at me with his killer’s gaze, but right now, with his body pressed against mine, his eyes have a distinct look—a dangerous mix of lust and desire. He’s getting off on this, reveling in the hunt, and judging by the way he’s pressed against my body, he’s aroused.

His lips part, and the tip of his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. He tilts his head to the side, dragging the knife down my neck until he presses the tip against my throat.

“You didn’t know I watched you leave the house and run into the forest, did you?” he taunts, his voice low and menacing.

The pressure of the knife against my throat burns, and I refrain from swallowing. I not only feel the threat, I see it in his eyes—how they light up at the sight of my blood. His hips shift ever so slightly, and I feel his erection grinding against my belly.

“Did you, Charlotte?” he continues, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure.

“No,” I reply, trying to suppress my fear, keeping it from morphing into something else. There’s no way this is turning me on. “Not until the fork.”

He hums under his breath, his eyes locked on that spot. He isn’t in there, not right now. As his eyes shift, I watch as the killer surfaces, and the pinch of his blade drags to the top of my breasts. I can feel the trail he left along my skin, the shallow cut that burns ever so slightly.

A moan escapes my lips as he lifts the tip of the knife and runs it over my erect nipple. I try to tell myself it’s because of the combination of sweat on my skin and the chill in the air, and I almost believe it.

Lyric’s smile widens, and it’s filled with a deviousness that Matty mentioned about his brother. It’s a facet of him that I don’t dare bring up, not right now, unless I want him to stop.

Do I want him to stop? Just how far will he take this? Lyric follows my panting breath with his knife, his eyes following every soft swipe of the blade.

“I won’t kill you,” he murmurs, almost as though it’s an afterthought. His knife drags down over my sports bra, my belly, and the band of my pants. “If you want to stop me, I suggest you do it now. This is the only chance you’ll get, Charlotte.” His knife toys with that band as he waits for an answer.

I should stop him, stop this madness. He stalked me through the woods, hunted me like a predator, and made me feel as though I was in danger.

Lyric’s smile lingers, full of a wickedness that captivates and terrifies me. I bite my lip to suppress any words that might escape my mouth. What else can he make me feel?

His knife dips beneath my pants, a threat to shred them, and a flutter of nerves dances in my stomach at the thought. I want him to pull me into the darkness with him, to immerse me in sensation. I don’t want to bury my emotions again. Not anymore. I want to ride them to shore with Lyric.

My hips press up, and the blade digs into my stomach. I feel the sharp pressure of the knife against my skin just before Lyric withdraws it and rises above me.

“Too late,” he rumbles, laying the knife on my stomach before yanking my leggings and panties down to my ankles, exposing me to the cool air. He hooks his head around my tied ankles, and before I can think or give him any signals, his tongue swipes through my slit.

My entire body freezes, and my heart pounds in my chest. Arousal pulses through me, chasing away my fear as Lyric’s tongue continues its exploration. The heat of his tongue steals my breath, and all I can do is open my mouth in a silent moan.

My hands grip the ground beneath me, twigs and leaves pressing into my skin as Lyric pushes me harder into the earth. Despite our unconventional location, Lyric doesn’t rush. His tongue glides along every contour and crevice with a patience I never knew men possessed.

I can’t quite find the words to describe what he does with his tongue, but I know he memorizes every gasp, every buck of my hips, and every soft moan that escapes my lips. He remembers and keeps going until the sky above blurs. My eyes cross, and arousal becomes my every thought.

He swirls his tongue up, dancing around the spot where I need his mouth, where I yearn for his lips and those forbidden kisses. His shoulders rumble with a low chuckle, and one of his hands snakes over my hip to grip the knife I had momentarily forgotten.

As his tongue plunges inside me, he tilts the blade down against my skin, creating a sharp pinch and pain that starkly contrasts with the pleasure of his tongue, intensifying the sensations that course through me.

I hold myself very, very still as he rises, my legs still hooked around his shoulders. His eyes settle on me, where the blade presses against my belly button. My whole body hums, and my mouth parts.

What’s he going to do with that blade?

The dull edge drags down my body until the flat rests against my clit.

I watch him and not his movements. My breath stalls in my lungs.

“So fucking easy,” he whispers, and I know he isn’t talking about how I spread my thighs for him or how easy it was for him to drag me to the ground. He’s talking about how easy it would be to hurt me.

I realize just how little I know about Lyric Hayes.

A lick of fear travels up the inside of my thighs, resting at the base of my throat, where his blade nicked me earlier.

And yet…arousal drips from me.

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