Page 94 of On Edge

“For you.” My voice is a strangled, needy sob. He thrusts in again, making me see stars, and I have to hold onto the table or I might fall off. The razor gripped in my hand makes it so much more difficult.

“Does it turn you, having me chase after you like some jealous prick?”

Frantically, I shake my head.

He bites my earlobe and plunges in deep, giving no mercy with how rough he is, curving his fingers up to press against a sweet spot I ever even knew existed.

Waves of intense pleasure shoot up my spine, and I know I’m close. I’ve chased this feeling before, with my own hand, but it’s never felt this fierce before, like my whole body is about to explode.

“Oh, God. Please.”

He snorts. “The bastard isn’t home. But I am.”

He swirls my clit with his thumb, driving me to want to hurt him when he slows, but then he thrusts hard, once, twice, then swirling over and over, bringing me to a precipice I want to plummet from.

Noises I never thought were in me fall, untethered, from my lips. Every nerve pulls taut, winding tighter. I’m aching, desperate, right on the edge.

All at once, I’m coming undone.

For him.

“No, you don’t get to come so easily.”

Slowly, he slides out.

Breathing hard, I open my eyes and stare at him under my lashes.

He goes to step back.

“Wait.” I find my voice, pulling him back.

“Why?” he hisses, breath hot on the part of my neck.

“Because…” I can’t say it. Even now, staring into his blown green orbs, seeing him hard in his trousers, and waiting for me to say it’s true that I want him just as much as he wants me.

But I can’t.

“You said you’d not touch me again.”

“Then I lied.”

Of course, he lied. Lies come out of his mouth like honey. Then I remember who he is, what he did, and my insides twist.

I hate him for making me so weak.

“I lied too.”

His nostrils flare.

“My father was going to do all those things you said. But do you want to know what I was going to do to Fogg once he got me in the bathroom?” I finally say, my voice hoarse.

Troy’s jaw ticks, and he swallows. “No.” But his eyes are hooded as he studies my face now, trying to piece it together before I can tell him.

I pass the razor to my dominant hand, and lean against the table to travel it up and press the blade to his neck. I’m still trembling, but it feels nice not to be the one scared for a split second. “I was going to cut him. But now all I want to do is hurt you.”

Troy’s eyes blaze, and his nostrils flare. “There’s mylittle blade.” His laugh is harsh.

Then. “Do it.”