I buck as the tip of his rough middle finger brushes the sensitive point of my chest.
Heat explodes through my body, and I whimper.
From desire? Fear? Both.
I need to slam the brakes on this.
“Finn—”
“But,” he exhales shakily, “if you come out and tell me, then the game ends. And I don’t think I’d like that.”
My watch is about to burst my ear drums.
I look for any path of escape from the monster, but Finn’s hips keep me pinned against the counter. I try to at least free my hand so I can see the color on the watch screen, but his grip on my wrists is secure.
Finn watches me with that deranged smile. It’s then I realize what I’ve awakened. Finn has kept this part of himself under the radar, but the beast inside is stirring. He’s a psycho who would kiss me just to kill me. He would devour my lips and my life and watch the light drain out of my eyes in the process.
And he would like it.
My chest expands and contracts.
I can feel my heart skipping.
Something’s wrong. There’s not enough oxygen in the room.
“I can’t…” I shake my head back and forth, gasping for air. My pulse is beating faster than I’ve ever experienced before, and the shortness of breath is making black spots dance in front of my eyes. “Please.”
“Ahem,” a voice grunts from beyond the doorway. “Are we interrupting?”
Hope springs to life in me. We have an audience. That means this ends now.
But Finn is unbothered.
Keeping his hips against mine, he calmly lifts my hand and checks the watch.
“Orange,” he says, showing me the watch face like a serial killer brandishing his trophies of severed fingers and sliced bundles of hair. “The next level is orange.”
And in that moment I know if I had my breath and a knife, I would stab him.
Chapter Seventeen
FINN
There’s something wrong with me. I’m sure of it.
Because as J is bending over, hand to her heart, struggling to breathe, she looks up at me with an expression of pure, unadulteratedhatred.
And I want to kiss her right then and there, in front of my brothers. In front of the world.
Is this what Dutch felt when he saw Cadence at that showcase last August?
Is this what turned Zane into a lovesick fool after one night with Miss Jamieson?
I don’t think this is love. The novels I’ve read all mention butterflies in the stomach, being dazzled, breathless, and nervous.
This dark, twisted pulsing in my chest is nothing like the books described.
“Do you hear something beeping?” Zane comments from the doorway. “A fire alarm?”
