Page 89 of X's and O's

A bolt of fear pierced my heart, and I suddenly realized what I’d done.

I’d let myself get comfortable. I’d let Bliss talk me into thinking this man was actually kind and funny and sweet. I’d let myself get swept up in his too-handsome face like acomplete idiot, and now that handsome face was going to be the last thing I saw before he plunged a knife through my neck.

I scuttled away and tried to scream for Toby and Devin, but nothing came out.

X crawled across the bed, following the path I’d made trying to get away from him. He caught my ankle, his thumb caressing my leg as he pulled me back down the bed.

I was too frozen by fear to fight him. I just went with it, sliding across the covers, until I was lying flat on my back.

His body hovered over mine, his weight braced on his knees either side of my thighs and the one free hand he had. The other still clutched the knife.

He dragged it up my bare arm, not putting any pressure on it.

But he didn’t need to. I knew exactly how sharp it was. And by the time he brought the tip to my neck, I was trembling from head to toe.

“You’re still scared of me,” he murmured.

His breath brushed over my lips, tantalizingly close.

I nodded. I couldn’t stop shaking.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

“You’ve got a knife to my throat,” I whispered, hating that even through the fear, I was so aware of him. Of his biceps, taught with the effort of keeping himself off me. Of his broad shoulders above me, and the way his wavy brown hair was just long enough to fall in his eyes.

Eyes that were so beautiful it was hard to believe they could become so soulless when he killed.

Because right now, when he was looking at me, they were filled with nothing but warmth.

It was stupid for my body to relax beneath his. Stupid for it to strain toward him, like we were magnets and the force between us couldn’t be fought.

Like he felt it too, or maybe it was just that his arm could no longer hold his weight, he lowered himself on top of me.

I gasped at the connection of our bodies. His chest to mine, encased by his arms, his bottom half pressing on me in places a man had never touched before.

He dropped his head until his lips brushed the side of my neck, and then higher, tickling my ear. A shiver rolled down my body, starting from the spot his lips touched my skin.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he repeated. “I only want to make you feel good.”

I let out a moan as he thrust his hips with mine, his dick hard between us and so close to where my body actually wanted him.

Instinctively, my legs fell apart, and he slid between them, erection right against my core. Both of us groaned at the touch of him there, even though there were layers of clothing between us.

He took a deep breath, sucking in my scent, and then suddenly the room spun, and I found our positions reversed, me lying on top of him, him pinned to the mattress beneath my weight.

I reared up onto my knees, terrified of him feeling exactly how heavy I was.

But he caught my wrist and pulled me back down.

“I’m going to crush you,” I whispered.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and stared up at me. “Your weight isn’t the reason I can’t breathe right now, Violet.”

Like his words had control of my body, I sank back down onto him. I couldn’t have fought the urge if I’d tried. It was like my body craved the connection with his. Demanded it.

His gaze flickered to my lips, lingered there, tracing a hot path all over them that had them tingling in anticipation.

“Take the knife,” he whispered.