My attacker halts with the knife at his neck and it gives me a moment to blink awake and figure out what the hell is going on.
Slade.
Fuck, I should have known he’d come for me. Humiliating him on the court was bound to have repercussions but I didn’t expect him to break into my home and manhandle me.
What’s he going to do?
Anger pulses through me. What kind of bullshit is this? How does a little school humiliation result in breaking and entering? If anything, the appropriate punishment would have been to destroy my locker or slut-shame me for some bullshit that I haven’t even done. But this? This is a thousand steps too far.
Flashbacks of my past come streaming back and I swallow hard as my heart threatens to beat right out of my chest. My blood starts pumping wildly around my body and all I hear is the loud thumping in my ears.
He slowly leans into me and I try to appear as though he doesn’t scare the shit out of me, but I have to admit, he’s got me this time. If we were anywhere but here, anywhere apart from a dark, lonely room, I’d happily fight back but I know all too well what fighting back gets you. One thing is for sure, I don’t know about his blue complexion, but I’m damn certain that he’s freshly showered and man, he smells exactly how I picture the devil to smell; intoxicating, addictive, and downright sinful.
“You fucked up tonight,” he comments as he looms over me, his sharp jaw looking impossibly intimidating as the light from outside my window casts shadows over his face.
I press the knife harder against his neck, knowing I’ll never use it on him. This knife has one purpose in life and this isn’t the guy it was destined for, but right now, Slade is far too close for comfort and if he pushes me hard enough, I might just be tempted. “No. That’s called payback. You fucked up when you threatened my brother’s future.”
Slade presses into the knife as if daring me to cut him and I hold still, not ready to back down. “You think you scare me, Virago? You’re nothing.”
I laugh. Isn’t it ironic how someone who is nothing could warrant a midnight visit out of the guy? “And you think this shit is supposed to scare me?” I lie. “Believe me, I’ve been through more shit than you could even begin to imagine. I was dealing with pricks like you before my fifth birthday.”
Slade’s eyes narrow on mine and it’s clear he thinks I’m lying. “Really?” he questions, sliding his hand over my neck and giving it a little squeeze. “Because the way your pulse is racing is telling me otherwise.”
My finger slips off the edge of the knife and presses against the heated skin of his neck, right where I feel his pulse beating beneath the surface. “It seems I’m not the only one with a racing pulse.” I raise my chin, ignoring his hand at my neck as the sexual tension skyrockets between us. “What’s got you all worked up, hmm? Are you just that affected by me?”
“You fucking wish,” he says, deathly low.
We stand in each other’s personal space, my back pressed up against the wall and his body pressed firmly against mine. Neither one of us says a word, only stare into the other’s eyes, daring one another to be the first to break.
The darkness begins to fade from his eyes and something screams at me from within but I’m not quite sure what it’s trying to tell me. Maybe that I should trust him or that he’s not going to hurt me. I don’t know but whatever it is has me easing up on the knife. I drop my hand while sliding the blade away as I go, trying to hold back a cringe at the fading red mark left on his neck.
I can’t say what makes me do it, but I don’t think he’s going to hurt me. Not right now at least. He’s here to prove a point that he can get to me whenever and wherever he wants. This is a warning.
Seeing the fight begin to leave me, he drops his hand from my neck but refuses to move away, always keeping me pinned and alert.
His eyes blaze with need and I wonder if his head is a mess of thoughts just as mine is. I want nothing more than to throw myself at him but at the same time, hating him feels so damn good. And now I’m back to hate sex.
Slade’s hand winds down my arm until his fingers curl around the knife. Without taking his eyes off mine, he pulls the knife free from my hand. “Why do you need this?”