Page 57 of Crossed

“That’s right, you shouldn’t have.”

She blinks. “Why are you being so… You know what? Never mind.”

She spins around, but before she can make it far, I’m on her, my front flush to her back as I press her into the wall next to the door. Her body tenses against me, and I bring my arms up, caging her in, aching to touch her with every fiber of my being.

I can’tcontroleither part of myself: the monster who wants to fuck her or the man who wants her dead.

My breath makes the strands of her hair flutter, and I lean in close, licking my lips, wondering if I’ll be able to taste her in the air. “Why am I being sowhat, petite pécheresse?”

“Somean,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “You’ve never been so mean before.”

I give in, the pull to her so strong it floods my veins and makes me high with need. My hand leaves the wall and sinks into her hair, fisting the waves and tugging until her head falls back against my chest. From this vantage point, I can track the delicate veins of her throat, and my mouth parts, going dry as I watch her swallow.

Her breaths come in sharp pants, her windpipe tempting me to crush it.

My fingers twitch at my side.

It would be so easy.

Do it.

I raise my arm up slowly, my body buzzing from anticipation, but then a small moan escapes her, and I drop it back down, fisting her hair tighter with my other hand instead.

“Tu me rends fou,” I rasp.

I splay my palm across her stomach, dragging her into me until her ass moves back and meets the thick, hard length of my cock. I groan, my head falling back.

“Cade…” she whispers.

“Do you see what you’ve done?” I murmur, bending low until my lips scrape against the shell of her ear, my fingers twisting in her wavy, dark strands. “What you’ve reduced me to?”

I thrust my hips against her, my eyes rolling as my hand slides up the front of her stomach and then over her chest, resting on top of her heart. Her life force drums out a quickened rhythm beneath my palm.

Do it.

In a millisecond, I’m cupping her throat, my thumb stroking her neck to the beat of her heart.

She could become nothing more than a painted memory on my fingers, one I can wash away like chalk in the rain.

I tighten my grip and my balls draw up, my stomach tightening as she sucks in a sharp breath.

Do it, I hear again.

My fingers dig into her skin.

Just a little more now and I could be free. How blessed would it be to feel my obsession drain away along with the light in her eyes?

Out of all the demons I’ve ever encountered, she has to be the worst. She tortures me until I’m sure I’d miss the pain if she wasn’t near.

“Tell me, petite pécheresse, have you thought of your priest?”

She swallows, her throat moving beneath my hand, and I imagine what it would feel like if my cock was fucking it instead. If I’d feel it bulging from the inside while she drank me down.

I loosen my grip, my priorities changing as my mind flips from hatred to lust.

“Tell me,” I demand.

“Yes,” she breathes out.