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She narrows her eyes, keeping a steady gaze. “Who is Mikael?” she whispers.

My lip curls into a snarl as he infuses with me. While I’m enjoying some of the emotions he invokes, I dislike hearing his name from her lips. I’m also not sure how she knows his name. Perhaps she knows a lot more than I give her credit for.

I keep my hand on the nape of her neck and trace my finger up her skin. The pieces of him are still lingering within.

“Mikael lives inside my head,” I growl. “And I’m the thin blanket between you and death. I’m the only reason Mikael hasn’t killed you twenty times over.”

Finally, she trembles, and a small squeak leaves her lips. “I shouldn’t have come here,” she says, and her hand finds the doorknob as if I’m actually going to let her leave.

I watch the bob of her throat as she swallows. Her body shifts and a sweet aroma radiates out of her. The scent of her fear, the smell of her arousal.

I bite my lip and keep my hands on either side of her, pinning her in and catching my breath. “Well, you did come to see me, and I gave you every chance in the world not to.”

She’s quiet as a church mouse and I keep my gaze down, but I can sense her watching me curiously.

“What do you want to ask me, Summer? It’s on the tip of your tongue, so out with it.”

She shifts beneath me. “How many women have you killed?”

I blink at her a couple of times and push my glasses up my nose. “Precisely none.”

Truth. I answered her question truthfully because she didn’t ask the right one.

Her breath falters and she pauses before she says, “How many women has he killed?”

Well, that’s another question entirely.

I pause before saying, “He’s a psychopath, Summer. Do you really want the answer to that question?”

I stare down at her and my vision flickers as it does whenever we are around her. We fuse into one. That fragment is spinning around like a wild banshee, affecting both of us in ways I can’t even fathom.

She pulls her hand to her mouth and tears well in her eyes, as if she is only now realizing what I truly am.

“Do you want to kill me right now?”

I snap back to myself when I hear her heart beating so hard. I suppress the hot twinge engulfing me as I focus my attention on her lips. I grab her hand and interlace her fingers with mine and move it to the painful erection I’ve developed in the past two minutes.

She gasps and I whisper in her ear, “Do you feel this?” Her delicate fingers graze my erection. “Do you understand how much I don’t want to kill you?”

She opens her lips and breathes heavily. I lean down and kiss her. I smile into her mouth as she moves her hands to the back of my neck and pulls me in. Summer Landry is officially the most fascinating girl I’ve ever encountered.

She has emotions—clearly, lots of them—just not the ones you’d expect being the target of someone like me.

She moans softly as I cup one of her breasts. She leans against the wall, pressing her knee into me like the little tease she is. Her heart rate is beating uncontrollably now, knowing she can’t resist me.

She tastes as delicious as she looks, and I’m tempted to rip off her clothing and fuck her right here, and there is nothing stopping me.

Certainly not any moral compass.

I grab her by her ass and lift her, moving her to my desk and angling her so I can get better traction between our bodies. I keep kissing her and he starts to take over, but I pull him back, wanting every second of this for myself.

A fierce battle of our psyches rages within me, each fighting for dominance while being intimate with her. I’m able to snuff him out, push him down, and untangle him from my veins, but it takes every ounce of my energy.

I move her hair out of the way and kiss her ivory neck. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this?” Her chest rises and falls so rapidly.

I reach down and undo the buckle of my belt. Keeping our lips on each other, I grab my dick, positioning myself between her legs. Voices echo from outside my office door, then a small knock, which I ignore.

Fire burns inside me, making my fists clench. The only thing on my mind is the urge to have a physical connection with her. My fingers brush against the hem of her dress and her hand instinctively reaches for mine.