Page 91 of Lured By Shadows

“Ivouch my intention was not to have sex with you today,” he murmured against my cheek, his voice low and rumbling through me like a promise whispered against bare skin. “But…” He paused, letting the word hang between us. “I need to erase that filthy creature's touch, my little lamb.”

My breath stuttered, catching embarrassingly in my throat. That nickname. God.

It was stupidly tender, and I hated how much I liked it. How easily it slipped under my skin and made me want to pull him closer. Some pathetic part of me craved to curl into him, spread my legs wide, and let him rut away every doubt until I forgot how to breathe, pretending that his hovering body, his erection nudging me, could somehow feel safe enough to lose myself in completely.

“What?” I managed, blinking like I didn’t understand even though we both knew exactly what he meant.

His eyes didn’t waver.

“Erase him,” he clarified, voice rough and low like gravel. “Where he has marked you, I need to remove it.”

The room felt warmer suddenly, heat pooling at the base of my spine and dripping lower. The way he said it made it sound less like a request and more like a claiming, as if he needed to overwrite the memory of Carter’s hands with the feel of his own fingers, his own mouth.

The thought sent a fresh rush of wetness between my thighs, soaking my panties and making the fabric cling to my folds.

“Erase?” I repeated, trying for confusion but hearing how thin it sounded. My cheeks flushed as shame and want tangled in my stomach. “What are you talking about?”

His gaze flicked down my body, slow and reverent, and I felt naked under it even though I was fully clothed.

“He touched you,” Culver murmured, his voice strained. “And I cannot bear it.”

He wasn’t asking for permission, but part of me wanted it. I wanted him to make it all go away, to replace every bad memory with something that felt dangerously right.

I shifted on the couch, and the friction made me more aware of the soaked fabric clinging to my folds, of how badly I wanted him to push his hand between my legs and feel how wet I was for him.

“Whatever,” I mumbled, trying to sound dismissive, trying to keep the upper hand. My voice betrayed me by coming out smaller, thinner, and too breathy. “If you’re asking to touch me, then touch me.”

I tilted my head away from him to hide the betrayal on my face, the slip of hunger showing in my eyes, and added quickly, “He touched me—”

“Hush.” The word was a quiet command, his lips grazing the shell of my ear as he said it. His breath was intimate against my skin, and a violent shiver shot straight down my spine.

“Please, I wish not to know.” The softness of the plea was undercut by something far darker coiled beneath it. “I might kill him if I did.”

My throat tightened, a surge of adrenaline slicing through the haze of arousal, and I opened my mouth to toss out a joke, to poke at him, to call his bluff…

But the words dissolved on my tongue the second I met his eyes because he wasn’t bluffing at all. I had only seen a fraction of him, but I knew he didn’t bluff when it came to violence.

My heart hammered against my ribs, my breath unsteady as I looked away. The image of him snapping Carter’s neck or putting a bullet through him flickered uninvited across my mind, and to my horror, my pussy clenched at it.

“Don’t kill him,” I whispered, my voice cracking around the edges.

It wasn’t for Carter’s sake.

The thought of Culver murdering him meant I’d have to carry that weight in my chest forever, tucked right alongside every other shadow already weighing me down.

“For me,” I added after a beat, quieter, rawer, my throat thickening around the words. “Please don’t kill him.”

Culver’s hands rose to my shoulders, fingers trailing up the sides of my neck as if mapping every tendon and pulse point. The pads of his fingers ghosted over sensitive skin, smearing sweat and leaving tingling warmth behind.

He paused at my throat, his thumb brushing my pulse, and I felt my body soften under the touch. My muscles unwound, my spine curving into him like I’d been waiting for him to hold me this way.

“I shall not kill him,” he murmured against my ear, lips grazing the delicate edge of it. His tone was warm but threaded with spite. “This time.”

My breath hitched as my ass pressed upward against him instinctively.

His erection was still hard, still present, nudging my thighs through his pants, thick and impatient. My body betrayed me completely: nipples aching, folds slick and swollen, inner walls clenching around emptiness only he could fill.

The pull toward him was so strong it left me feeling exposed and needy in a way that both thrilled and terrified me.