Page 136 of On Edge

“I’m giving you one more chance to run.” But as he says it, his arm around me is locked tight.

This is the moment when good girl Sage should come to her senses. Where I should remember that I came here to kill him,not let him treat me like a ragdoll. But I’m so tired of being good. So tired of being careful and controlled, and afraid.

I shake my head. “I’m done running.”

He looks at me through slitted eyes. “Then I’m going to devour you, little finch. I’m going to taste every inch of you. And you won’t be able to stop me.”

Every breath that comes out of me at those words is a suppressed shudder.

He yanks me higher so I’m on tiptoes, making the arm lock he has me in hurt a little. The pain causes something hot to pulse in my core. Then he lowers me onto the fur rug, and I surrender to its softness. The blanket we were wrapped in earlier is still there, warm from our bodies, from the fire. He follows me down and looms over me.

A sliver of fear makes my breath hitch, and I start to scoot backward, but he grabs me, stopping my retreat.

“No, don’t. I won’t be able to stop myself if you run.”

Stop himself from doing what?

He drags me back underneath him, and his eyes bore into mine. There’s something darker in them now. But it makes my stomach tighten with anticipation. The fire casts shadows across his face, making him look even more sexy and dangerous.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

My gaze darts away, my face hot all of a sudden.

“No. Look at me, little finch.”

I do.

“Good. I want you to remember every second of this.”

I couldn’t forget this if I tried; the way he’s staring at me so intently, the weight of him over me, the firelight dancing across his cheekbones, and the feeling of being completely seen, wanted.

This is what I’ve always wanted,

Needed.

Molten heat has pooled in my core, making my brain feel scatty and my body useless. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want Troy Severin right now. Before I can respond, he takes both my wrists in one hand and then pins them above my head. The movement is smooth, but far from gentle, like he promised me it wouldn’t be. Then his free hand slides down my side, slow and teasing, feeling every curve through thin fabric.

It makes me catch my breath.

When he reaches my hip, his thumb strokes bare skin where the shirt has ridden up. I shiver and press against him, eager for more.

“Not yet.”

He reaches for his belt on the chair.

Then flips me onto my front.

My pulse zips as he binds my wrists together behind my back with the thick leather. The fur of the rug cushions my cheek as I turn to look at him. I can’t move my arms or my body. He’s holding me down, not that I could move. My body is ready for him, like I’ve been waiting for this all my life.

He leans himself on top of me, his knees and one hand supporting his weight, the other tangling my hair together, and then grips it to pull my head gently back. Fear strikes again, making my body tense. It takes everything in me to relax and arch to him.

“Do you know what I want to do to you?” His breath blows hot against my ear.

I shake my head because I genuinely don’t know. I’ve never done this before. Never wanted anyone to touch me the way I’m desperate for him to touch me right now.

But I’m also afraid. Scared of what he will do, of how much I want it.

He kisses down my jaw to my neck, and I tilt my head back instinctively, giving him access. His lips find my pulse point, and I feel his teeth graze the sensitive skin there.