Page 52 of On Your Life

My foot slips and a pan rattles. The whole world seems to teeter on its axis. Through the crack in the cabinet, I watch his head tip backward then snap in my direction.

Fuck.

My foot slams into the cabinet door. I tumble out and hit the floor on all fours. I manage maybe three feet before a large hand encircles my ankle and drags me backward with so much force that I’m dizzy when my body stops moving. His smile is somehow scarier than his sneer.

“You lose,” he says.

The next few moments blur into heat, adrenaline, and the impossible contradiction of wanting to kick him away while being unable to ignore the pull between us.

Before I can make a decision, his lips meet mine again but this time it’s filled with urgency. His tongue invades my mouth and I swallow the growl that pushes through my teeth.

His hands slide up into my hair, nearly encompassing my entire head. For one insane moment, I feel secure in the presence of someone who is clearly unstable enough to destroy me.

My bliss is short-lived.

His grip tightens, knotting into my strands. The kiss becomes suffocating, the sharp scrape of stubble against my cheeks pulls a shiver from me.

My heart races and my cheeks flush. I know better. I know exactly who I’m dealing with. But I can’t bring myself to care.

The quick change of pace makes all of the blood rush low in my stomach. Wetness pools between my thighs as he pushes further into me. My back is against the kitchen floor but I can’t think past this beast eating me alive.

“Did you miss me, little killer?”

A soft hum is all I can manage. My body gets lost in the rhythm of the moment.

His mouth leaves mine and I’m almost disappointed before his lips brush along my throat.

His teeth catch against the sensitive skin at the base of my neck, and I flinch. He doesn’t release his hold as his hand goes below my waistband.

A groan escapes his throat and he unclamps his teeth from my collar. He pulls back and holds his hand up in the red light, fingers glistening with my desire.

“Look at what I do to you,” he says, almost in awe.

He leans over me, rotating his fingers in the light before licking them one at a time. He doesn’t take his eyes off of mine for a single moment.

I feel like I’m at the gates of hell. My own personal demon is hovered over me, lapping at his fingers like he’s been waiting a millennia to get a taste.

My body is on fire. Fuck it, if this is the way he wants to kill me so fucking be it. My hands find his waistband and attempt to pull him closer. I push my hips upward, looking for any ounce of friction that I can find.

He pushes me back down. His hands drag slowly down over my breasts, tracing over my abdomen, before stopping right at my waistband. He pauses.

“Beg for it,” he demands.

His shoulders rise and fall quickly in the dim light.

“Please.” The word comes out on a breath.

My clit throbs with every passing heartbeat. The stupid uniform is soaked between my thighs. Every atom in my body is begging for me to just listen.

“Don’t be shy now. Fucking beg me for it, Kira.”

Kira.

My name sounds sinful coming from his lips.

“I said fucking please!” I yell, not caring who hears at this point.

I see the dark outline of a crooked smile. He releases his grip on my hips and yanks my pants down around my ankles. He rips his top off and the muscles in his back flex as he leans down between my thighs. My mouth waters at the sight of him. A tattoo of a skull with a snake wrapped through its eye sockets takes up the entirety of his back. Both of his arms are full of dark floral pieces that I can’t quite make out in the dim light. God I fucking love men with tattoos.