Stella
All the air rushes from my lungs as my back slams against the oak tree I was hiding behind not so long ago. Whatever I was about to say is forgotten as his burning hot fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing hard enough that it makes white lights flicker across my vision.
My heart thunders in my chest as his dark eyes bore down into mine and his hot breath flows over my face, proving that he's as worked up as I am right now.
Only, I haven’t worked him out yet. And while I'm excited by this unexpected interaction, I have no idea if he's downright furious that I've interrupted him and his little makeshift target practice session, or if he wants me as much as I do him.
We might be surrounded by darkness, but I'm pretty sure that we could be bathed in sunlight and his face would be just as unreadable as it is now. I like to think I'm good at reading people, but it's like he's wearing a mask.
His jaw ticks, his lips are pulled into a thin line, and his eyes are dangerously dark—with desire or anger, I have no idea, but fuck if they don't call to me, make me want to dive headfirst in the darkness of them and the aura that surrounds him.
I have no idea who he is or why he's here alone in the middle of the night, but I don't doubt the fact that I probably should be scared of him. I'm sure most other people would be.
But I'm not most people.
I've spent my life training to deal with men just like him, and what I said earlier was no lie. I've taken down more than I can count, and despite the fact that he thinks he's got the upper hand right now with his fingertips digging into the flesh of my throat, he doesn't realize it's exactly where I want to be. And if I wanted out, I could have him cowering away from me in seconds.
He's totally underestimating me, and I'll allow it to continue. For now.
His wicked eyes bounce between mine as he tries to read me, to understand me. Good fucking luck, asshole. No one else has managed to do it, so I really doubt he's going to be the one to get under my skin.
And to prove my point, instead of panicking or reacting in a 'normal' way, all I do is smile at him.
"You seem to be forgetting something," I say lightly.
"Oh yeah? What's that, sweetheart?" His deep voice rolls through me, making my lower stomach clench with desire and sending a wave of heat between my thighs.
"I've still got this." Lifting my hand, I trace the barrel of his gun up the side of his face until I rest it against his temple.
He swallows, the skin of his neck rippling with the move, but his eyes flash with danger. A danger that has butterflies erupting in my belly. Excitement surges through my veins as his scent fills my nose and his closeness makes my skin tingle.
I know what everyone thinks of me at first impression. They think I'm some young, weak girl. But they couldn't be further from the truth. One of my favorite hobbies is proving just how wrong they are, and I have a suspicion that doing it right now is going to be one of the sweetest.
This guy thinks he's dangerous. To be fair, he probably is; it's the reason I'm drawn to him. If I've learned anything about myself in my almost eighteen years, it's that my ultimate weakness is the baddest of the bad boys.
His lips curl into a cocky smirk that makes me want to melt, his eyes continuing to hold mine, his silent warning coming through to me loud and clear. It's just a shame I'm going to ignore it.
"If you think that's going to scare me then you need to reconsider, sweetheart."
I have no idea if he's aware of the fact that I've just shot his last bullet or not, but I'm more than happy to pretend, because I can't deny that this little bit of gunplay has me desperate for more.
Who knew when I slipped out of my house tonight for some space that I'd stumble across exactly what I really needed?
Him.
It might have only been weeks since we arrived here, but hell if I'm not missing people. Talking to my friends on video chat is great and all, but it's no match for being face to face—skin to skin—with someone.
"I'm not trying to do anything," I lie. "I won, so it's only right that I'm the one in control right now."
"So you did," he murmurs, his deep voice reverberating through me. "What do you want as your reward? Freedom?"
"Freedom?" I ask, my brows pulling together.
"Any sensible person would turn around and walk away from me as fast as they appeared."
"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly normal," I confess.
The warm fingers of his free hand wrap around mine on his gun, and when he pulls it away from his head, I allow it. Only because I'm assuming what's coming next, and I crave it like a junkie needs his next hit.