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My eyes fell. However, a glance at his crotch gave me the slightest smidgeon of satisfaction. He was unmistakably hard. He might be punishing me, but he was punishing himself too.

Reeve headed toward the door, and I feared suddenly he was leaving. Instead he grabbed the stool in the corner and brought it back with him to set above my head. I kept my eyes down. Not closed, but lids lowered because if I looked anywhere but toward my feet, I could see him – he was that close – and it was intimidating. Why had he sat, anyway? Why give up the ability to tower over me? Though when he’d stood, he felt less menacing. It was this new position that made me feel the most vulnerable.

Every one of my senses magnified as I tried not to panic. My mouth tasted like iron, as though I’d bitten my tongue. Maybe I had. The stool creaked – he’d moved. Why? The pump of the dispenser sounded. Then his hands were on me again, massaging my shoulders in small firm circles of his fingertips. Like before, his pressure was perfect, his attention to my knots, precise.

I closed my eyes.

After several long minutes of silence, he spoke again. “There’s one more group.” His voice was low. Soothing. “They’re small and they seem to be… how do I put it? Attracted, that’s it. They’re attracted to the idea of danger. The mystery of it. The intrigue. It’s glamorous to them. I encounter them often.” His hands pushed lower, to the muscles above my breasts. “They want to friend you. They want to fuck you. They want to be fucked by you.”

My eyes flew open and I tilted my head back to see him better. You think that’s me? I wanted to say. You think I’m attracted to you because I think you’re dangerous?

But I said nothing. Because possibly he was right.

Though I was looking at him, his eyes remained on his hands. They trailed together up my sternum to the hollow of my throat, where his touch lingered and I wondered if he could feel the rapid beat of my heart.

When his fingers moved again, they separated outward to slowly glide up the sides of my neck. Every nerve ending in my body whirred with terror. I was still with fear.

“I assure you, Emily, that it’s not nearly as romantic as it all seems.” His voice was so hushed and the blood thrumming in my ears so loud that I had to strain to hear him now. “It’s a façade. It’s the power that attracts you. The idea of violence. Not the actual act.” His hands splayed to lightly cup the sides of my throat. His touch barely there. Tickling at my skin.

Yet I knew… God, he could break me. He could squeeze and that would be all.

“In reality, Emily, murder is messy and final. And it hurts.”

My teeth clenched together. Every muscle in my body went rigid. I wasn’t prepared for this. Finally, I was afraid.

In a sudden movement, he swept his hands back down over my shoulders and I let out a heavy sigh of relief.

Then he began the rhythmic kneading again. His fingers pressed painfully into my tissues causing tears to gather in my eyes. Though it hurt, I preferred it to the soft touch at my throat.

“You asked around about me, Emily,” he said, and again the air left my lungs. This was my crime, I realized. For the second time, I’d fucked up. Fucked up big. Had I really thought that my questions would go unnoticed? Had I really thought Reeve let anything go unnoticed? “That didn’t make me happy.”

I couldn’t help it – I whimpered.

“Aw, Emily. Shh.” He ran a hand over my hair, petting me. Maybe it was supposed to be soothing but I guessed he meant it to be as chilling as it was. “I understand, beautiful girl. I can’t blame you for wanting to find out about the women I’ve been with. It’s smart. You want to know if you could fit in where they did. Want to know if you compare. Want to know why they are no longer with me. If it’s because I really am as dangerous as people say. That’s it, right?”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

“I need to hear it, Emily. That’s why you were asking, wasn’t it?”

My yes came out on another whimper, but he accepted it. “Good.” He ran the tips of his fingers around the edge of my face from my chin to my forehead, stopping to massage my temples. “The problem with men who are actually a threat, though, Emily, is that you don’t ever find out how unsafe they are until it’s too late.”

I shuddered. But even though my breathing was now laced with soft sobs and my lip was trembling, I was still undeniably aroused.

I hated him, I decided. I hated him and I hated me.

Reeve’s hands fell audibly into his lap. “Tell you what. Since you were so curious, I’ll give you this: each relationship I’ve had has ended for a reason. There’s no need for you to know any more than that.”

If he were going to kill me, I thought, he wouldn’t say that. He’d tell me everything. Right? It wasn’t a bet I’d put money on, but I was clinging to it.

He leaned his face down toward mine and rested the bridge of his nose on my cheek. A tear slipped down my face as he whispered at my ear. “As for whether or not you compare – yes, Emily. You are one of very few women who actually do.”

He nipped my lobe, sending a buzz of fear/excitement to scatter through my already trembling nerves.

Abruptly, he stood and smiled. Fucking bastard had the nerve to flash me his devilish grin. “Nice chat, Emily. I think this went well, don’t you?”

Thankfully he didn’t press me for an answer because I refused. I was too frightened. Too pissed. He’d never intended to hurt me, just intimidate me. And he got off on it. And that made him a goddamn asshole.

He started to leave and I held as still as I could, waiting for the sound of the door to shut so I could get up, get dressed, and get the fuck out of there.