Kill Switch (Devil's Night, #3)

by Penelope Douglas

I ran the blade down his skin, shaving everywhere I felt stubble. His cheeks, his chin, above his top lip, and below his bottom one, and I dragged my fingers over every inch of jawline to feel for anything I’d missed, and after seconds of my hand on him, I was drawn back to the ballroom seven years ago when he let me look at him with my hands. Nothing had changed. I set the blade down and brought both hands up to cup his face. “Just need to check,” I told him, but it came out so soft I wasn’t sure he heard me. I touched him, grazing my fingertips across his cheekbones, down to his jaw, up his neck, and over the hollows of his cheeks. He moved into it, meeting my touch by cocking his head and turning it, giving me complete access as I checked my work, and then his words came back to me from all that time ago. Want to check the rest of my body? Absently, my fingers fell down his neck, and I dug my fingers in just a little, because I wanted to touch more, and I hated myself for it. His breathing turned labored, and he pressed his hands into the grooves of my thighs where they met my hips, kneading them. He leaned down, his nose brushing mine as he pressed his chest into me and growled in a whisper, “Winter…” I gripped his shoulders, feeling the ridge of his hard cock nudge me between my legs as heat pooled in my groin. My heart pounded. I wanted to run away. And I wanted him to rip off my clothes, too. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.