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I’m the type who barely sleeps in unknown places. It’s a defense mechanism so that I can flee whenever possible.
So how could I sleep in the devil’s arms?
Though he’s a gorgeous devil with a body of steel. Even as he sleeps, I feel the hardness of his stomach and chest against my breasts and belly and his…dick between my legs. It’s definitely semi-hard and ready for more.
Does he ever get enough?
Actually, no. I don’t want to know the answer to that.
I lift my head to stare at his face. It’s almost as if he’s awake—the same eternal expression, the blankness in it, the hard edges of his features that belong to a model.
His attractive looks have always been a weapon in his games of destruction, so I tried to pay them no mind, but he’s so handsome. So cruelly beautiful. I could stare at him all day.
And I’m beginning to glamorize the bastard.
Which is dangerous.
Reaching behind me, I pull on his hand that’s spread across my back and slowly let it drop to the mattress.
I wait for a second, holding my breath, in case he moves.
When he doesn’t, I plant my palms on either side of his face and lift myself up. His dick slides from between my thighs and a low grunt leaves his lips.
I freeze, expecting to be pinned down by his lethal eyes and massive weight, but he remains in place.
Phew.
God, I could kill him right now. Maybe suffocate him while he sleeps and rid the world of his brand of evil.
But even as I entertain the thought, it’s just not who I am.
With huge discomfort and bursts of pain, I finally manage to stumble out of the bed. It takes me a few tries with lots of panting and internal cursing to put on my clothes—without underwear because I can’t find it.
It’s probably ruined anyway.
After fetching my phone from the floor, I wince at the dozen texts from my friends, then slip it in my bra and pause when I realize I smell like him. Woodsy like his shower gel that he lathered me with, but I also smell of sex.
That I’m beginning to only associate with him.
I cast one last glance at the room.
It’s as clinical as Killian. So impersonal that it could be anyone else’s bedroom if not for the medical books on the shelves.
I step backward, keeping my sights on him. There’s no way I’ll give him my back after earlier.
It cost me my virginity.
Not that I ever considered it anything special. I’d really never found anyone I wanted to give it up to, even if that made me the outcast at my previous school and with my friends.
Not to mention that any boyfriends I had in school were personally vetted by Landon, and something tells me he threatened them with murder if they touched me.
It bothered me a little, but not enough for me to throw a tantrum.
Truth is, I was too apathetic, and as much as I hate to admit it, I never wanted anyone with the same fire that I feel for Killian.
But I’m starting to learn he’s not only after my virginity as I initially thought.
Killian will keep escalating, like war—he’ll want more and more until I’m completely spent.
