Page 23 of Twisted Violet (Lovesick Villains #4)

TWENTY-TW O

VIOLET

I’m in the kitchen when I hear the elevator.

The soft mechanical sound of it approaching is subtle at first. So quiet it barely registers over the simmering water on the stove. But then it dings, and the sound hits like a gunshot in my chest.

My body stills.

The guys are out on a mission. No one should be coming up. Not without a keycard. Not unless…

My heart slams against my ribs as my brain fills in the worst-case scenario.

He found me.

I flick off the stove, grab the biggest knife from the block, and crouch low behind the kitchen island.

Thank God, Ollie’s fast asleep in his crate.

Footsteps echo down the hallway, and my breath hitches.

They’re slow, steady, and getting closer.

I press myself tighter to the cabinets and clench my fists, knife braced and ready. The moment the footsteps are close enough, I spring up, ready to attack.

“Jesus!” Dallas jumps, his hand instinctively raising in defense.

My knife stops mid-air.

I take him in. The dimples, the golden tan, the familiar weight of his stare and the panic drains just enough for my hands to stop shaking.

“Well, hey there, psycho Barbie.”

I stare, panting, still not lowering the blade.

Dallas lifts both hands like he’s surrendering. “Look, if this is about me finishing the last of your mochi, I swear it wasn’t on purpose.”

My hand drops. So does the knife.

I let out a breath that turns into a half-laugh, half-sob. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He steps forward slowly, like he’s approaching a spooked animal. “The job only needed two of us on-site. We drew straws to see who got to come home to you. Clearly the best man won.”

He smiles, but I can see the flicker of concern in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod. Then shake my head. Then nod again.

His brows lift. “So… is that a yes and a no?”

“I thought-” I exhale hard. “Never mind.”

“You thought it was another attacker,” he says, voice softer now.

Dallas’ jaw tightens, just for a second. Then he steps closer and nudges the knife away with his boot. “Well, the good news is, I’m home and we’re having a movie date tonight. The bad news is, I’m dangerously handsome, and come bearing snacks, which, as you know, is your kryptonite.”

He tosses a plastic bag at me. It’s filled with sour watermelon gummies, chocolate-covered raisins, and peanut butter M&M’s.

I blink down at the candy. “How did you remember all of my favorite movie snacks?”

Dallas shrugs and offers me a smile. “I pay attention, V. Especially when it comes to you.”

Dallas heads into the kitchen to grab us drinks while I recover on the couch, trying to calm my still-jittering nerves.

“I already have the perfect movie picked out.” He calls out, peeking his head out of the fridge.

I arch a brow. “You sure I’m going to like it? You know I have a discerning taste.”

“Please,” he grins, settling beside me with two bottles of water and the remote in hand, “I’ve had this cued up for weeks.”

The title appears on the screen.

K-Pop Demon Hunters.

And I laugh despite myself.

It is exactly the kind of movie I’d watch.

We’re almost done with the movie when it happens.

The part I didn’t know to brace for. The part I didn’t see coming.

The quiet, broody love interest, the only person who ever looked at the main girl like she wasn’t damaged, throws himself in front of the demon king’s fire to protect her.

And after a few heartbreaking seconds, he’s gone.

It guts me, and suddenly I’m crying .

Silently. Shamefully, like I can hide it behind the blanket if I just shift the fabric high enough.

Dallas notices.

“Hey.” He leans in. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. It’s stupid. I’m fine. I just didn’t expect that. I thought they’d get a happy ending.”

He studies my face for a second before brushing a tear off my cheek with his thumb.

He’s not trying to fix it. Not trying to put a Band-Aid on it. He’s just letting me feel and doing what he can to help me through it.

“It’s just a movie,” I try to say, but my voice cracks on the words.

Another tear slips free. Dallas leans in and kisses it away.

Then another. And another.

He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He just keeps kissing every tear like it matters. Like I matter. And when our lips finally meet, I let them.

Because tonight, I need to believe in someone who sees all my cracks and stays anyway.

His kiss feels soft, reverent, like I’m something fragile he’s scared to break.

My world narrows to the feel of his mouth, to the weight of his hand as it grips onto my hair, and to the heat blooming low in my belly as he shifts closer.

He moves like he’s dreamed of this a thousand times. Like every stroke of his hand is a promise he’s been dying to keep.

His hand slides between my legs dragging up the inside of my thigh, slow and patient and possessive .

I gasp into his mouth when his fingers graze the edge of my panties.

“I’ve wanted this,” he says, voice rough. “But I didn’t want to push.”

“You’re not,” I breathe.

“Tell me to stop.”

“I won’t.”

Dallas flashes me a mischievous grin, like I’ve just bared my throat to a wolf and dared him to take a bite.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, dragging his thumb across my slick seam. “That’s how bad you need me.”

He lifts me effortlessly, settling me into his lap so we’re sitting face to face.

His mouth trails down my neck, teeth grazing skin that feels too hot, too exposed. I whimper when he sucks gently, leaving a mark.

My hips grind against his instinctively, and he groans low in his throat.

“Fuck, you feel so good already,” he mutters. “So warm. So perfect. I need to be inside of you.”

I tug his shirt up and over his head, and splay my hands across his golden chest, tracing the lines of muscle and heat.

His hands grip my waist, and he thrusts his hips, cock straining against his sweats beneath me.

My whole body aches from the feel of him.

He pulls off my shirt, leaving me in nothing but a bralette and boy shorts and his eyes rake over me like I’m a wish he’s finally been granted.

I reach for his waistband, and he lifts me off of his lap to help me free him.

He slips a condom on and then I feel him, thick, hard, and ready.

I slide my panties off, climb on his lap again and sink onto him, inch by delicious inch.

Dallas groans as his head falls back.

“Fuck, V.”

My eyes flutter shut as I move. Slow at first. Grinding in steady waves until he’s moaning my name like it’s the only word he knows.

His hands tighten on my hips, guiding the pace. Not rushing, just… worshiping.

I brace my hands on his shoulders and ride him harder, chasing the heat building inside me.

“Look at me,” he says, voice hoarse. “I want to watch you when you come apart on my cock.”

I meet his eyes as the pressure explodes inside me, as my walls clench tight and my whole body trembles.

He follows me over the edge with a broken groan, holding me close as his own release rakes through him.

We don’t speak for a long time.

We just lie there on the couch, breathing slowly.

Eventually, the movie ends and the credits roll.

I curl into his side and press my cheek to his chest, listening to the slow rhythm of his heartbeat.

The screen fades to black, and the room dims.

“I didn’t think the movie would end like that,” I whisper.

Dallas’s voice is low and tired. “I kinda did.”

I tilt my head to glance up at him. “Why?”

He shrugs, mouth curved in the faintest smile. “Damaged girl. Tragic love. It’s the kind of story people like to write.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But I still hoped.”

He pulls me in tighter, tucking my head under his chin. “Me too, V. Me too.”

Eventually, the quiet lulls us to sleep. My breathing slows, and somewhere between the weight of his arm around me and the warmth of his body, I stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

For once, I just let myself rest.