Page 18 of Where Sinners Repent

Why are the arms of men who could ruin my life always so damn delicious?

Taking a deep breath I try to settle my wired nerves. Everything's making me jump lately.

When I finally look up, his dark eyes slide down my body. It doesn't feel like an appreciative glance.

It feels like he's looking for something.

The ghost of a smirk tugs the corner if his lips. “Are you scared?”

I frown up at him.

Yes, I’m fucking scared.

I don’t say that, of course. Instead, I shake my head.

It doesn’t seem to be the answer he wants to hear. With slow, mechanical steps, he advances. Although the man barely speaks, everything about him is so fucking loud. The energy wafting off him is so intense and all consuming, it forces me backward, until my back hits the wall.

In an instant, he's on me. His hand whips out before I can even blink, closing around my throat, squeezing as his body cages me in.

I whimper. A toxic mix of adrenaline and need swirls through my veins.

Almost looking bored, he reaches into his pocket and whips out something that glimmers under the soft lights of the bedroom.

It takes me a second for my eyes to focus on it. The sound of metal-on-metal whooshes, and I cry out when I realize it's a knife.

A beautiful knife.

It seems purple, but the colours change with every movement. Like it can’t quite capture each one, flickering back and forth.

If it wasn't held by a man who has me by the throat, I might be able to appreciate it.

“What are you...?” I rasp through the grip around my neck, but I feel the metal tug at my clothing, ripping my shirt right down the centre until my body is bared to him.

My oversized shirt opens uselessly. Once again, he his burning gaze drags over my body.

I'm not sure if he's found what he's looking for, when he glares back at me.

A muscle jumps in his jaw.

I hate the way my chest heaves and my nipples harden.

This... this is the roughness I crave.

After last night, I wasn't sure if he had it in him.

Holding my eyes, he lowers the knife. And I feel something... barely a whisper of a touch. Trembling, I don’t dare move.

He runs the blade over my clit, not enough to slice through my panties, but enough to send a zap of fear down my spine.

The weapon continues to tease me. Circling me until I know that I’m ruining my panties more than any knife could ever do.

Long, dark lashes shadow his eyes as they remain locked on mine. Unblinking. Watching.

I let out a sharp cry at the sound of the knife slicing, waiting for pain.

It never does.

My panties fall to the floor.