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“It wasn’t your first time at my place, was it?”
He stops his pacing again just long enough to glance at me, those eyes turning my insides to liquid fire as he arches one brow.
“No.”
Then he starts to walk again.
“Did you…” I swallow, my cheeks reddening. “I mean, why did you…”
Why did you steal my panties?
But that question seems about as forbidden to say out loud as the other one burning in my core. Like, why does knowing he was invading my space, seeing where I sleep, touching my things, picking me apart from the inside, ignite something in me?
Cillian’s slow pace brings him behind me, and I shiver as I feel him linger there—feel his piercing gaze scorching into me.
“As I was saying, there’s been a development.”
My heart turns to ice.
He’s come to kill me.
For revenge. Or maybe just because he is who he is. Because he’llenjoyit.
I shudder, my mind churning before my thoughts shoot to survival. To the makeshift blade I’m sitting on.
I have to act. Before he does first, and it’s too late.
My pulse pounds in my ears, adrenaline flooding my system as I think through my moves: use my free hand to reach between my legs and grab the tile under me. Spin, jump as far up from the chair as I can, and stab him before he can do God-knows-what to me.
The fingers of my unbound hand twitch on my thigh. My muscles coil and tense, ready to spring into action—
Then I’m screaming as he’s suddenly on me.
I gasp sharply, wincing as Cillian grabs my free arm and yanks it behind my back. His huge hand shoves between my thighs with a snarl.
“My-fucking-my,” he rasps darkly. My face turns to ash as he pulls his hand back, one finger bleeding slightly as he holds the sharpened tile in his hand. He growls deeply in his chest, holding the makeshift blade right in front of my face—taunting me with that single drop of blood on his finger.
That’s all the damage I did, for all my grand plans.
“I’m insulted,” he sneers, tossing the tile away. “And a little curious. What the fuck else do you have hidden down here?”
My mouth goes slack as Cillian slides his hand back between my legs. His huge palm boldly and unapologetically cups my pussy through my panties. And when one of his thick fingers unexpectedly drags up my seam, I react.
Horribly.
Mortifyingly.
My skin ignites with heat. My muscles strain at the bonds holding me fast, my body shuddering as he nonchalantly touches me, taking what he wants. And knowing that he could takeanythinghe wanted right now should not—shouldnot—have this effect on me.
I should be horrified, not eager.
I should be terrified, not hungry.
I should be fearful, not on pins and needles wondering what he’ll do next.
Why are you like this?
Cillian chuckles darkly in my ear, wrenching me from my fucked-up little fantasy world.
