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If you don’t look back, you run faster. If you don’t look back, no one will catch you.
He’s wearing a simple white T-shirt and a black leather jacket along with dark jeans. His hair is the color of a moonless night with a bluish hue. It’s short on the sides and long enough in the middle to be tousled. The straight, chiseled jawline and the thick brows give him a fatally attractive edge—the kind serial killers have.
“That’s not how it works. Remember the rules?” “W-what rules?” “Break willingly and I might let you collect the pieces.”
“You’re mine to screw and destroy, my ugly monster. It’s time to get used to that.”
His thumb rubs my jaw like a lover’s caress when in fact it’s a Grim Reaper’s kiss.
“I own you. Every single part of you. You might have tried to escape, but that won’t happen again. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing this time, but I’ll figure it out and you’ll lose like you do every fucking time.”
“You’re a psycho.” I breathe out, my heart stammering. It keeps beating and pulsing like crazy, as if it’ll soon stop and is using up all of its energy. Asher’s lips pull up in a cruel smirk. “It takes one to know one, my ugly monster.”
“And you’re kissing me.” He closes his eyes as if he’s drunk on the feeling. “Fuck how you kiss me.”
“You’re playing with fire, Reina,” he says lowly, almost apologetically. “Then I’ll just burn.”
“Yes, Reina. I don’t know why the fuck I can’t stop thinking about your laugh and your smile. I don’t know why I keep watching you all the time. I don’t know why my dick only comes to life when you’re around.” He strokes his thumb along my jaw, keeping me pinned in place. “So why don’t you tell me? What type of fucking game are you playing this time?”
