He stills. Green eyes penetrate, the familiarity swirling in the darkness that has invaded my mind. Clarity comes rushing back and the world comes into focus once more. Mako is staring at me intensely, his face arranged carefully into a blank slate. A trickle of blood leaks from the point of the knife digging into his skin.
“Oh my God,” I rush out, the knife slipping from my grasp. He catches it before it falls and gets stabbed on the way down. My hands fly over my face, and embarrassment floods my pores. “I am so. Fucking. Sorry, Mako.” My voice is muffled by my hands, but I know he heard me just fine.
I’m absolutely horrified. I almost killed him. I actually almost killed him.
I hear the knife clatter on the countertop behind me. And then it sounds like the cutting board is being slid down the counter, away from us. One hard tug and my hands away fly from my face. The suddenness of it forces a gasp from my throat, and my hands fall easily.
His hands grip both my hips, and in one swoop, he lifts me up and sets me on the countertop. He arranges me so my body is sitting on the catty-corner, where the two counters meet.
“Mako! Careful!” I admonish, wary of his gunshot wound. He’s mostly healed, but he’s still not one hundred percent yet. He’s not allowed to lift heavy things, and I’m pretty sure the doctor would categorize me has a heavy object.
He still hasn’t spoken a single word. Oh, God. He’s probably going to kick me out now. I almost just sliced his neck open. And what’s worse, is I’m actually capable of it.
“What triggered you?” he asks finally, cupping a finger under my chin and jerking my chin up. My tear-filled eyes meet his steady greens.
“The knife,” I admit reluctantly.
“Why?”
I try to look away, but he jerks my chin back to him again. “Because the last time I used one, I hurt someone with it. It feels like I’m holding a weapon in my hands now, not something to cut tomatoes with.”
“Would it help if the knife became something different than a weapon?”
My brows pucker with confusion. “What do you mean? I thought that’s what I was doing by cutting tomatoes…” My voice trails off when he grabs the knife with one hand, pulls out the collar of my shirt with the other, and begins cutting the fabric down the middle.
“Mako,” I gasp, stunned. The tip of the knife grazes my skin. Not enough to break skin, but enough to leave a dull sting. When I glance up at him, his eyes are concen
trating hard on the knife. He’s grazing me on purpose.
My heart rate escalates, accelerating my breath along with it. My shirt falls of my shoulders and down my arms. He cuts my bra next—I liked that bra—and then my shorts and panties. By the time he’s done, my naked body is adorned in scraps of fabric.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, the tip of my tongue darting out to wet my dry lips. He ignores me and grabs my ankles and spreads them, setting each foot on either counter. Next, he bundles up all the scraps and throws them behind him. Distractedly, I watch them all flutter to the ground.
“Reclaiming what a knife means for you.”
My eyes snap back to his. He steps into my space. Electric shivers run down my spine when the rough texture of his jeans rubs across my bare pussy, eliciting a sharp gasp from my throat.
“Mako…” He deliberately rotates his hips, making sure the zipper skates across my clit. His breath warms my neck as his body presses further into mine, heating me up from the inside out. His lips glide up my neck and to my ear, tickling the tiny hairs on my ear.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, his ocean deep voice low and husky.
No, because in this moment, I’m the closest I’ve ever been to heaven, and I’m not ready to die yet.
“Yes,” I whisper. Only because I’m more scared of him stopping.
My nerves intensify when I see his hand grip the knife. Not by the handle, but by the blade. I’m tempted to open my mouth and tell him to not cut himself, but something tells me he wouldn’t mind so much. I keep my mouth firmly shut, even when he lifts the knife and glides the handle lightly across my stomach. My stomach clenches in response, equally terrified and anxious to see what he’s going to do.
The handle trails further down my stomach until he reaches my pussy. The minute Mako started undressing me, my core flooded with juices. But now that he's dangerously close to my most sensitive area with a knife… god, I'm soaked.
My breathing escalates when he circles my tight bud with the handle. I’m not proud of the squeak that escapes my mouth, nor the way my legs tremble. His wicked, satisfied smirk slides across his face, and if I wasn’t so distracted, I’d do something about it.
Involuntarily, my eyes drift shut as I get lost in the sensation. Just the right amount of pressure. The coil in my stomach is already dangerously tight. The pressure lifts from my clit and reappears right at my opening.
My eyes snap open. “Mako,” I warn, my tone filled with trepidation. He lifts his eyes from his task, ensnaring mine in a heated dance.
“You said you trusted me,” he reminds me, the wickedness still present on his face.
I gasp when the tip of the handle slides past my lips and enters inside me. He doesn't push any further, waiting for me to protest or tell him not to stop, I don’t know what he wants. Too many thoughts and emotions are swirling through my body like a cyclone.