Kill Switch (Devil's Night 3)
A creak in the floors.
The slow whine in the floorboards getting closer, and I heard Mikhail whine.
I closed my eyes. No.
He jiggled my door handle. When it didn’t give, because it was locked, he did it harder.
The door still didn’t open.
Everything was quiet for a moment, and I clutched the sheet at my sides, waiting, and then…
The door was kicked in.
I sucked in a breath as it flung open, the wood splintering, the handle crashing to the floor, and I heard my chair tip over and hit the wood.
I shot up in bed, shaking my head against the heat rushing my belly and the warmth between my legs. “Don’t,” I begged.
But I wasn’t sure if I was telling myself or him.
I didn’t hear him move, but I knew it was Damon. The cloves drifted off his clothes, and the security would’ve stopped him if it wasn’t.
A light sweat made the silk pajamas stick to my skin, and I pulled off the sheet, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
“Please, don’t,” I whispered. “I can’t think straight.”
His footsteps approached, he stopped in front of me, and I heard ice clink in a glass as he took a drink and cupped my chin.
He ran his fingers over my jaw, possessive.
“You don’t want to want it,” he said in a low, deep voice, “but you do.”
“Please.” Just leave. “Please.”
Don’t touch me. Don’t hold me. Don’t take me in your arms.
He set the glass down on my nightstand, and I heard him remove clothes, his jacket maybe, and throw it off somewhere.
“Lie down,” he told me.
“No,” I mumbled.
I heard buttons go flying as he tore off his shirt and then the jingle of a buckle as he unfastened his belt.
“Lie down, Winter,” he said sternly.
He’s not him. He’s not who I fell in love with.
He was my sister’s husband, and he wanted to make sure I was never happy again.
I put my hands on his stomach, holding in my sobs as he threaded his fingers through my hair, bringing my head in close. Bending down, his breath falling across my lips, he said, “On your back, Winter. Do it.”
And then his lips caught mine, biting, and I kissed him back, letting his tongue sink into my mouth and feeling the need for him course through my body.
But instead of lying down, I pulled back, touched his face, and pleaded with him as he caressed my cheek with his thumb.
“Just let me go,” I told him.
And he growled, throwing me off.