Page 67 of Sweet Venom

“You always wear those hoodies, but I knew you werebeautiful beneath it all.” He grins. “So, tell me more about yourself. I don’t feel like I know you that well.”

I take a sip of my wine. “What do you want to know?”

“Like what do you do for fun?”

“Reading, watching movies, or going out for walks with my sister. I’m not that adventurous. What about you?”

“I love skiing and hockey.”

Yikes.I force a smile. “That’s cool.”

We talk about mundane things during dinner, and I have to take a break and go to the bathroom because I’m losing interest.

And I don’t want to lose interest, because I plan to have sex with Toby, or do oral or something. I need to prove to myself that I’m not sick for coming all over my stalker/potential killer’s mouth and that I would’ve reacted that way with any other man.

I glare at my reflection in the mirror, at the makeup and hair I let Dahlia do—brown eyeshadow, pink lipstick, and soft waves.

I even made an effort today, wearing a camisole that only reminds me of Mama being fucked while she sniffed cocaine. Because, at some point, she couldn’t have sex without drugs coursing through her veins. I hate these sexy lingerie-looking things. They make me anxious and scared, as if I’m trapped in that closet with trembling hands over my ears.

It makes me think of my foster mother accusing me of dressing like a whore and tempting my stepfather. When I was eleven.

Really, took me a lot of effort to step out of my comfort zone tonight. My thoughts need to focus and stop drifting elsewhere—to black-inked forearms, cold brown eyes, and a gruff voice that wraps around my spine like barbed wire.

After skimming my fingers on my wrist a few more times, I’m about to leave the bathroom.

The door bursts open and a tall figure appears.

My heart lunges, and my lips part as Jude walks in.

No, he walksmeback.

His hard chest slams against mine, and he’s still striding in. I have no choice but to step back or he’ll topple me over.

His gaze is dark, so dark under the ambient red restroom light, and my hands shake around the strap of my bag.

“What are you doing here?” I ask in a low tone as the door slams shut, locking me in with my worst nightmare.

“The question is, what areyoudoing here, Violet?” The rough timbre of his words steals my breath, my thoughts, my sanity.

Jude’s deep voice, like all men with similar voices, puts me on edge. But his does something more. Something I refuse to acknowledge, no matter how violent the war in my stomach gets or how many goosebumps erupt on my skin.

I jump when my back hits the wall, and he looms over me like a threat, or maybe a curse—I’m not even sure anymore. But I’m once again hit by how tall and massive he is. He truly is the tallest man I’ve ever seen.

The most dangerous, too.

Jude lifts the spaghetti strap of my camisole with his index finger, and even though the contact with my skin is brief, I catch fire. And just like that, inappropriate images of these same lean fingers someplace else rush through me like an aphrodisiac.

“It seems you have the very wrong idea about how this works.” He lifts the strap again, and the fabric rubs against my nipples, making them hard, or maybe it’s his body against mine. “Just because I lengthened the leash doesn’t mean you get to roam around as you please.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“You’re whatever the fuck I want you to be.” He places his arm above the top of my head and leans down, his brown eyes like orbs of violent intent. “Your life is mine, remember?”

“Then stop the empty threats and take it.”

“I told you that won’t be happening. At least, not yet.”

“Then leave me alone! Whether I date or fuck or work or breathe has nothing to do with you.”