Page 65 of Terror Tuesday

And now, sitting beside this man, all golden-boy smiles and quiet restraint, I want to ruin him. Not slowly…Now.

My breasts jiggle with a shuddering inhale, making my low-cut V-neck shirt suddenly scandalous. Did I wear it for Elliot? Maybe. But the truth is darker than that.

If I let my desires take over, I’d straddle him on his wooden chair and grind against whatever he’s got beneath his jeans. Taste something real while my sanity crumbles beneath the guilt of everything I’ve done.

I wonder if he feels the same, but part of me also doesn’t care. Like…I want totakehim.Usehis body. Which is so violentlywrong.Why? Because I just witnessed my boyfriend get slaughtered, thenblewthe guy who did it beneath the Cathedral of the Seven…

And I loved it.

So why am I awakened to sudden urges I never had before? It feels reckless. Like, I can’t control my libido anymore? It was never a problem with Hunter. But now…

Elliot must feel it, too. His Adam’s apple bobs as he stares at his computer screen, though his fingers aren’t moving. Almost as if he’s afraid to glance at me, his cheeks grow pink before he lifts his long lashes to my face.

“Wanna finish these, or pretend we did while drinking at Westmore? After Nick, I need something cold.”

I’m breathless. Does he know what his voice does to me? How my body answers like it’s starving? Guilt settles in until itheightens my arousal in an odd way. I shouldn’t be this turned on by him. He hasn’t done anything. And I was just with Vanq the other night.

“Yes,” I manage to whisper.

He smiles, thumb dragging softly over the back of my hand. It’s almost nothing. Almost innocent.

But it detonates bombs of wanton desire inside of me.

“Yes,” he echoes, quiet and amused.

But his eyes are anything but calm.

For once, there’s a silence that passes between us as we gather our things and head out, Elliot holding open every door like a gentleman.

Outside, the air is crisp—apple-sharp, the kind that kisses your skin and makes you want to press up against someone warm. A part of me aches to slide into his side, to thread my fingers through his like we belong together.

Then I remember…cameras are capturing all of this.

What will Vanq do?

“Do I stink that bad?” Elliot makes a dramatic sniff under his jacket, his easy smile tugging at the corners of his plush lips.

“Huh?”

“You took, like, five steps away from me just now. I promise I won’t strangle you.” He walks closer, boots crunching the last of the autumn leaves. “Not unless you want me to.”

Well…that thought makes me soaked between my legs. “Oh? You’re very cheeky today.”

“I’m noNickthe wordsmith, but I can’t help myself around a beautiful and intelligent woman.” With a glint in his eyes, he snorts a laugh. “That was such a fucking lie. I have zero game, Olivia. But, if you must know, I have to shoot my shot with you.”

The air leaves my lungs like I’ve been kissed in the gut. I try not to show it.

“Why is that?”

He opens the glass door to the bar, motioning me in first. “Because I can’t let you go. You’re unforgettable.”

The temperature inside my body rises by at least ten degrees. I’m speechless. That desire I had back in the library transforms into a wild, feral energy. If he asked me to hit the ground right in front of the crowd here, I would.

That single word—unforgettable—cracks open a vault in my chest. Suddenly, I’m back on stone, knees bruised, mouth aching, a stranger’s hand in my hair, and a voice whispering,“Only the strongest submit by choice.”

I shove the memory aside.

The bar is mostly empty for early afternoon, warm with amber light and lined with glass bottles that shine like secrets. My body thrums. I shouldn’t feel this alive. I shouldn’t want him like this.