It felt way too goddamn intimate.
A dribble of blood ran down his stomach, past his belly button to the smattering of hair that disappeared into his jeans.
He grabbed the knife from my grip, yanking me from my stupor. I could get lost in this man’s body.
No, Grace. Bad. I do not like him.
But I could look.
I shook my head at myself as he set a palm on my cheek. His thumb ran over my skin, oddly soothing despite the unavoidable bite of pain that was to come.
But instead of immediately cutting me like I expected he would, he ran the tip of the blade from my chin down the column of my neck. I sucked in a breath as he hooked the knife in one of the holes littering the top of my shirt and tugged. The material snapped easily, exposing more of the skin on my chest.
He applied more pressure as he sliced along my collarbone. Warmth dripped down my skin, disappearing beneath my shirt as it trailed between my breasts. His eyes followed the path hungrily as he pulled the knife away. With the handle still gripped in his fist, he propped his hand against the wall besidemy head.
“Have I told you you’re beautiful?” he asked huskily, his gaze homed in on that spot.
“No,” I breathed, chest rising and falling with my deepening breaths. Each one had my breasts pressing against his chest, sending more heat throbbing between my thighs.
“Good,” he murmured. His head dipped, tongue lapping at my wounded skin.
A sting of pain had me hissing through my teeth, but it quickly melted into pleasure as he slid up my neck, likely smearing blood in his wake.
His teeth dug into the sensitive flesh at my pulse, causing me to gasp.
“Henley.”
His body stiffened. “Don’t say my name.”
I was breathless. “Why?”
He paused, his nose tickling behind my ear and breath sending goosebumps down my spine.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shoving down every ounce of pain that came with his demand. It solidified my nagging fear that this wasn’t real to him. He was staying on task; meanwhile, I was losing sight of the plan with every swipe of his tongue.
Without another kiss, he stepped away, leaving me cold and aching. Heartless eyes met mine, and I hated the emptiness there.
“Text them.”
Chapter 16
Grace
My Doc Marten tapped an unsteady beat on the sidewalk. I tried not to look like a paranoid maniac as my head turned every which way, awaiting…someone.
I had no idea who would be showing, and that made this all the more nerve-racking. What if they saw right through my text for help? What if they didn’t give a shit that I might die, and they didn’t come?
One thing I knew for certain was it wouldn’t be my boss showing up to lend a hand. It’d be some errand boy—or brute—which was exactly what Henley wanted.
I, on the other hand, knew how intimidating these men could be. My last interaction had a plethora of what-ifs racing through my mind. They hated questions, and hated feeling slighted.
All of which would be happening today.
The growl of a loud exhaust floated down the vacant road. Seconds later, a blacked-out Dodge Charger appeared out of the dense fog. My heart rate kicked up anotch, and I ran my fingers against my clammy palm, unable to stand still.
I’d never asked them for help. Never even texted unless it was for confirmation of a kill.
This was out of the norm for me, which made me half expect the car to not stop at all, but rather slow and roll down a window and plant two bullets in my chest.
