Page 70 of Petrify

“But you don’t have to. I know that your circumstances have been out of your control, but?—”

This time the laugh under his breath has a self deprecating lilt. “My circumstances? Oh Mallary. Keep telling yourself you had no choice, if that’s what helps you sleep at night. But eventually, you’ll have to get over this.”

I scowl at him, and wrench myself away, my fingers burning from his tight grip. “You're a killer. And you’re okay with that?”

I can hear his smile and can see the amusement in his eyes. “You’ll come around, don’t worry.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

“Get away from me or I’ll scream.”

“Do it.” Then he’s leaning closer again, so close, nearly brushing his plaster nose to mine. “But I don’t think you will. You know, deep down, we are like-minded. You would’ve screamed already if you were afraid.”

I hate that he’s right. I hate that I have nothing to say to that.

“Close your eyes.”

Defiant, I stare at him.

Until the intensity in his gaze is too much. He splits me in two.

I obey.

I can hear the soft tap of the plaster mask as he lays it on the piano.

“I knew you weren’t afraid of me the moment you called my name.” His lips suddenly brush against mine. Soft and familiar and rough. Holding each side of my face, crushing our lips together in a kiss so all-consuming.

I gasp for air. “I am afraid.”

“Maybe.” He steps closer, in between my knees. “But you understand.”

On top of the Steinway, with a murderer between my knees, his cock pressing to the soft flesh of my thigh, I let him kiss me. I let him trail his lips across my jaw, down to my throat, holding me in, leaving behind a scattering of bruises like a constellation on my shoulder.

“You understand what it’s like,” he says, traveling up my throat.

“What what’s like?” I mumble, letting my head fall back to allow him access to as much of my skin as possible. Each kiss is a brand, his rough stubble scraping, his teeth nipping and biting down.

I hear a laugh under his breath, and then his hands bracket my waist, pulling me closer to the edge of the piano, pressing my center against his hard cock. A hand fists in the hair at my nape, tugging my head even further back, arching my spine. Tears bloom in my lashes.

“Is this why you won’t leave me alone?” I breathe.

“This,” he says, a dark edge to his voice, “and how pliable you are. I can do whatever I want to you.”

I open my mouth to reply, but then he bites down on the space between my neck and collarbone, hard enough I think he must have drawn blood. I choke on a whimper. The fist in my hair jerks downward, forcing my back to meet the piano while he continues to bite at my skin, looming over me, grinding his cock against me.

I don’t care that I’m lying atop this ridiculously expensive instrument. I don’t worry about breaking it. I just wanthim.

My fingers curl in his hair, tugging him closer, holding him to me so he can’t leave, can’t pull away.

And when I open my eyes, I have a perfect view of the door, upside down—a perfect view of Reece standing there, petrifiedinto stone, watching Bastien creep towards ravishing me out in the open.

Our gazes meet for just a moment.

And then he’s quickly ducking out of the room without a word.

I shove against Bastien. “Get off.”