I take the small wrap from my pocket, unfold the end, and let the white powder fall into the glass of water she keeps by her bed before finally turning to face her. She's sleeping naked – it's a warm night. The sheets cover up everything apart from one nipple, the bud hardened by the breeze coming from the open window. And just like that, I’m hard. Fuck, she's mesmerizing. I can barely take my eyes off her.
The temptation to touch her is so damn great, but I force myself to keep my distance. The drink on her nightstand fizzes as I move quietly through the room. Her phone's next to her, probably filled with more fucking texts from that smug Mexican bastard. Her dark hair is fanned over the pillow and she looks as breathtaking as ever. I want her. I want her so fucking much my balls ache.
I'm back in front of her bed soon enough, barely resisting the urge to touch my fingertips to her porcelain skin. The scar is a permanent reminder of what I've done to her already. Raised and puckered, it would feel so fucking good against my fingers.
Before I can stop myself, I reach out and touch it. She doesn't move, and my cock swells as I trace my fingertip over the length of the scar that mars her beautiful face. I see the other scars too. The ones I saw on that magazine cover. There are so many of them, small, big, some deep, some shallow. And some wounds are recent. She's been hurting herself. She's been hurting herself for a very long fucking time.
Just as I pull my hand back, she stirs, as if disturbed by the loss of the comforting touch on her cheek. Fuck. She's going to wake up, and yet I don't want to move away. Every cell in my body is screaming for more. I want to part her legs and see that pretty little snatch. I want to grab her by the hair and feel the weight of her dark mane in my hands. But she's going to wake up any second. The longer I stay here, the more dangerous this is. She's almost awake... so very close to busting me.
Her pretty mouth opens and she mutters something, and then her eyes fly open, and I know I'm fucked... but maybe that's exactly what I've wanted all along.
Chapter 11
Dove
I could swear Parker was just in my room.
I rub my eyes, glancing to the window, but I know I'm the one who left it open. There's no one there anymore, nothing but the soft breeze blowing in and ruffling the white silk curtains. With a groan, I pull myself up. I guess I was expecting too much by hoping for another night of uninterrupted sleep.
Picking myself up from the bed, I shut the window. It's chilly in the room, and I'm parched. I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand and down it in one go. It tastes bitter, and I make a face, wondering if I’d kept the glass on there for too long.
I'm certain I won't be able to fall asleep again, but a few moments after finishing my drink, I realize just how bone tired I am. I get back in the bed and pull the sheets up, burrowing in the comfort of my duvet, my eyes feeling heavier and heavier as I start drifting off. I must've imagined Parker right there, in my bedroom.
There's no other explanation.
***
Parker is here again, but so is Raphael. The rational side of me knows it's a dream, but there's nothing I can do to stop the two mirages from having their way with me – not now that they've tied me down. The silk ropes feel amazing against my skin, holding me captive as the two men circle me, their cruel intentions making their eyes sparkle with darkness.
I know they're going to fuck me, I just don't know which one of them is going to go first.
Raphael approaches and I notice he's holding a knife. I begin to thrash against my restraints, but it's no use. He's going to hurt me, and my eyes go to Parker's, desperately pleading for help. But help doesn't come.
Raphael raises the knife and I close my eyes so I don't have to see the blood. But he doesn't cut me. No, instead he starts sawing against the ropes in an effort to get me free.
That's when Parker loses it. He roars to life, knocking Raphael out and kicking the knife out of both our reaches.
"You're never leaving," Parker snarls at me as Raphael groans weakly on the ground. "You're mine, Dove, you're fucking mine, and I'll never let go."
I descend into a cacophony of pleas, pleading with him to let me go, but I know it's no use. Parker will never leave. Parker will never let go. Parker and I are tethered together, our sick, dark connection meaning we'll never be apart. I feel the invisible strings pulling me to him. There's no fighting it.