Page 208 of Intense

When I stand, I lay my hands flat against his shirt, feeling the rapid thud of his heart under my palm.

“See? You aren’t a robot. I can feel it right here.” I look up at him.

“My heart only beats for one person, love.”

My breath catches in my throat. I slide my hand down and capture his, guiding it over my own chest.

“So does mine.”

He leans down, his lips crashing over mine. I hook my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and closer until there’s no space left.

I want him to consume me. Poison me.

We bleed from the same wounds. He knows what haunts me. I want to know what terrorizes him.

“It’s not always a bad thing to put your trust in someone else, Finn,” I whisper against his lips.

“Your blind trust nearly killed us both.”

I shake my head.

“I trusted your heart would win over your head, that’s all. It’s in there, and it beats for me. This is real, Dr. Quinn. Whether you want to accept it or not. We found each other for a reason. Let me in. Please?”

His breath is warm against my skin.

Then he pulls back, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. My eyes trace the ink etched into his skin, but they linger on the scars. They’re small and scattered. I step closer, fingertips brushing over his shoulders.

On closer look, they’re not random. Scratches. Deep ones. From nails. My heart twists, remembering the way he clawed at himself in his sleep.

The nightmares.

“I won’t be able to tell you,” he says quietly.

I bite my tongue. Maybe it will take time. Maybe I’ll never know what haunts him.

Then he retreats into the chair, muscles flexing as he sets both wrists on the arms.

“I won’t be able to freely say it. But you can force it out of me. You can hurt me enough for me to tell you.”

My mouth parts.

“Stephanie, hurt me until I tell you the truth.”

He locks one wrist into the restraint with a sharp click.

“It’s the only way I can let you in.”

There’s almost fear in his voice, but his face is carved in stone.

I step forward, bend down, and secure his other wrist.

“I can’t hurt you back like this. You’re safe from me,” he whispers.

“I never was worried about myself with you.”

“Grab one of the metal trays. They have a variety of instruments. You have my permission to do what you want. I’m on trial now. Extract what you can. This is your one and only opportunity, love.”

I turn toward the metal trays, my pulse pounding in my ears. Stainless steel glints under the light. Forceps, scalpels, clamps, and tools that could break a body down piece by piece. God, the fun I could have here with the right victim. I always do my kills quietly and cleanly.