It bloody doesn’t.
If anything, I clench my thighs together, because apparently I am just as unhinged as he is, and I have long since stopped pretending otherwise.
He is off the bed in a single movement, stalking towards me like a predator that has finally decided to take its prey.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
I tilt my head back to look at him, biting my lower lip, unable to resist the smirk that forms there.
“A T-shirt,” I say sweetly. “I know intellect isn’t your strong suit, but it’s fairly obvious what I’m wearing.”
“Do not play with me, baby.”
He is on me in an instant. His hand wraps around my throat, fingers tightening, cutting off my air.
“Whose T-shirt is it?” he asks, each word clipped.
“I’m not telling you,” I grit out as his grip tightens.
He leans down and bites my lower lip, and I hiss.
“Very well,” he murmurs. “Don’t tell me.” He presses a hard kiss to my mouth. “I’ll fuck the truth out of you.”
He releases my throat abruptly and steps back.
I don’t even register the movement until it’s too late.
The fabric is cut from my body and falls to the floor. I am left standing there, naked.
His eyes drag over me, openly appreciative.
The tip of the blade trails between my breasts, barely there, the cool edge sliding over my skin in a way that feels disturbingly good.
I shiver.
He watches the reaction closely.
He licks his lips, bends, and drags his tongue along my cheek.
Then he closes the distance.
He takes my mouth, the kiss violent and consuming. I move into it without thinking, tasting mint and cigarettes. It only makes it worse.
Deeper, and more unhinged.
His one hand slides beneath my arse and he lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist on instinct, clutching at his neck.
He crosses the room in two strides and throws me onto the bed.
He drops the blade to the floor and is on top of me a second later.
His mouth claims my throat, biting, licking, before dragging down to my chest. He takes one nipple into his mouth and sucks hard, then switches to the other, nipping more gently as his hand closes around my breast, his thumb circling. He bites down, leaving the mark of his teeth behind.
My fingers dig into his back, my nails scraping his skin as I clench my thighs together, close to coming from his mouth alone.
Then he stops.
I gasp, staring up at him. “What are you doing?”
