“The one you had with a knife to your neck. Like you’re daring me to do something.” He stood off the wall. “It’s fucking hot.”
I swallowed. “I’m not?—”
“I’ve thought about this moment a lot, Gemma.” In three quick strides, Grim closed the distance.
“The moment when you kidnap me?” I joked.
“What I would do when I had you again.” He thumbed the blood on my collarbone, smearing it. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was going to be sweeter.”
The idea that Grim had been fantasizing about me as much as I had him—that he wanted it…sweet?—made me hot. I couldn’t breathe. I shouldn’t want this, but then that was Grim and me, a sky of starry shouldn’ts that somehow made a constellation.
He gripped the back of my neck, forcing me to look at him as he did so. I hissed at the pressure on my tattoo, and his eyes grew heavy lidded. He dragged my lips down with his free hand, and forced his thumb into my mouth, tasting lingering blood, sharp and coppery.
“You deserve sweet.” He pressed against my neck, soft yet hard, and the pain transformed into hot, twisting pleasure. A small sound fell from my lips without my consent.
This was the moment I should turn back. Where I fought, where I said I’d made a mistake.
Back at my house, blood spilled garnet on the marble.
The foundation beneath my feet was crumbling.
Maybe Grim felt it too.
He dragged me to him by his grip on my neck, forcing me to arch into him.
“Last chance to get out, Rich Girl.” He dragged a bloody hand down my face, waiting.
“I don’t want sweet,” I said. “I want you.”
His eyes went dark. Black.
Everything changed in an instant. He reached behind his back, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling it over his head.
Ripped.
Each muscle brutally cut.
That tattoo I hadn’t seen since the night that bound us, vivid. Three blood-red lines, shadowed in black. Scratch marks—mine.
Then his lips were on mine.
THIRTY-SEVEN
GEMMA
Grim’s kiss was a heady mix of rough and gentle. The scrape of stubble against my cheek. Gentle, worshipping lips. Dragging out my bottom lip with his teeth only to capture my sighs with his mouth. His tongue slid across my lips, and I opened for him, slanting my face so he could get deeper access. He took it greedily, pressing me deep into the bed, mattress dipping.
Like he wanted to devour me.
Consume me.
His kiss moved to my neck, to the area beneath my lobe, biting at the soft flesh, before soothing it with his tongue. He trailed kisses down my neck, to the hollow of my throat, and then between my breasts. He paused, my dress preventing him from going further.
With two hands he ripped, butterflying the fabric. He stilled, eyes darkening at my bare chest—the dress had a built-in corset. Then he shoved me to the bed and rippedthe rest of the fabric down past my belly button, to the hem. I lay naked and exposed, dress ripped to my sides.
I had a half second to register the way my heart skipped at the ravenous gleam in his eyes, when his lips landed on my flesh.
He kissed down the now exposed skin. My collarbone. The wing of my ribs. Above my belly button. My hip bone.
