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And locking my ankles in the air, I winced as the eggs began to open.

Long legs crawled out of the opening, the music got faster, and the creature lurched, flying through the air toward a woman’s face.

I shot my head down, burying it in the pillow as the shot cut to a new scene.

I twisted my face to the side, laughing as I peeked over at him. “That part always freaks me out.”

But he wasn’t paying attention to the TV. His eyes were on my legs.

I immediately warmed. Had he been watching the movie at all?

He still sat back on the couch, relaxing, but his eyes were trained on my body, and I could only imagine what he was thinking.

And then, as if realizing I’d just spoken, he finally raised his eyes, meeting mine, and then shot his gaze back to the screen, ignoring me.

I slowly turned back, too, and even though I wondered if he was still looking at me, I made no move to sit up or grab a blanket.

Over the next hour I continued to hug my pillow as the Predators hunted the Aliens and slowly all of the archeologists became collateral damage. I felt Michael’s eyes on me from time to time, but I didn’t know if it was real or just my imagination.

But every time a Predator lurked in the dark or an alien crept out of a corner I could feel the heat of his stare, and I gripped the pillow tighter and tighter until, by the end of the movie, my fingers ached.

“You like to be scared, don’t you?” I heard his voice behind me. “That’s your kink.”

I twisted my head to the side, narrowing my eyes as the credits started to roll.

Like to be scared? I enjoyed scary movies, but it wasn’t kink.

He placed his palms on his thighs, leaning his head back and watching me. “Your toes curled every time the Aliens and Predators came on the screen.”

I dropped my eyes, lowering my legs and slowly sitting up.

All the movies that I enjoyed the most came to mind—the slasher flicks, like Halloween and Friday the 13th—and I noticed how tight my stomach muscles were. I took a deep breath, forcing them to relax.

Yeah, okay. I liked the way my heart pounded harder, and I loved the way my senses were sharper when I was scared. The way every simple tick-tock in the house became mysterious footsteps, or the way I was hyper-aware of empty space behind me as I sat on the couch, feeling like someone was lurking back there.

I enjoyed the fright of not knowing what was coming and from where.

“When we used to wear the masks,” Michael said, dropping his voice to a near whisper, “you liked it, didn’t you? It scared you, but it turned you on.”

I raised my hesitant eyes and tried not to let out a laugh. What was I supposed to say? That the fact that they’d looked like monsters got me hot?

I shook my head clear and stood up, saying in a quiet voice. “I’m going to bed.”

I grabbed my phone and took a step, but Michael’s voice stopped me.

“Come here,” he said softly.

I turned my head, narrowing my eyes. Come here?

He sat up, resting his forearms on his knees and waiting, while I shifted on my feet.

He was always playing games. I didn’t trust him.

But the temptation to engage was too great. He was right. I was getting good at it, and I kind of liked it, too.

I took slow steps, holding up my chin to steel myself.

When I reached him, he placed a hand on my hip and pulled me in between his legs. I gasped as he fell back against the sofa again, pulling me in with him. I shot my hands out, planting them on both sides of his head on the back of the couch, keeping myself upright as I leaned into him.

“Say it,” he breathed out, holding my hips with both hands now. “It turned you on.”

I closed my mouth and shook my head, looking down at him with a challenge.

“I know it did,” he maintained, a fire in his eyes. “Did you think I couldn’t see how tense your body would get or how your nipples got hard through your shirt when you saw me wearing it? You’re a little twisted. Admit it.”

I folded my lips between my teeth, turning my head away.

But then he tipped his chin up and caught my nipple between his teeth through my tank top, and I closed my eyes, letting out a small cry.

Oh, God!

The heat of his mouth swooped into my stomach as he released my nipple and then snatched it up again, dragging it out between his teeth.

“I’ve got the mask upstairs,” he taunted, kissing and nibbling on me through my shirt. “I can get it if you want me to.”

No. No, I wasn’t like that.

I pushed away from him, but he held me firm.

“Michael, let me go.”

But then I felt my phone vibrate in my hand, and I quickly glanced at the screen, seeing no name with the number. Reading the number, though, I noticed that it was his mother’s. That’s strange. I thought I had her number saved in my Contacts.

But I let it go, remembering that my mom was with her. I needed to take this call.

Planting my fists on Michael’s chest, I shoved him away. “Get off me. Your mom’s calling.”

All he did was laugh, though, and my face fell.

He grabbed my arm and threw me down onto my stomach and came down on my back, pinning me to the couch.

I breathed hard and fast, feeling his cock press against my ass as he snatched my phone out of my hand.

I stared wide-eyed as he placed it a few inches in front of me, his finger hovering over the green Answer button.

“Michael, no,” I rushed out, panic making my lungs ache.

But he swiped the screen anyway. The ringing stopped, and I heard silence as she waited for me to say something.

“Say hi,” he whispered in my ear.


Tags: Penelope Douglas Romance