Ghostface Killer(45)

Just as I grab for another piece of bread, the door off the kitchen swings open, and a cold gust of air sends goosebumps up my bare legs. I look over cautiously at Baz with a slice of bread in one hand and a butter knife in the other. It's dull, but I could still cause some damage with it if I needed to. I watch him through the corner of my eye as he passes by me and opens the refrigerator door. The kitchen isn't huge, but it's not small either. There's breathing room. I gauge him as he pulls out the carton of orange juice and starts to chug. My instincts tell me it's safe to go back to making my sandwich. He isn't looking to fight. His body language isn't defensive and neither is his energy. For now.

I definitely feel his eyes on my every move, though. We don't say a word to each other, tension present, and as thick and as black as exhaust fumes. I just continue buttering the bread, trying like hell to ignore him. Go away, go away, go away, I chant to myself, eager for him to disappear.

I have no such luck. As I reach for the jelly, I feel him behind me. Right behind me, pressing his cold, sweaty body up against mine.

"Baz," I warn anxiously.

"Mmmm?" he hums in my ear. I flinch as he places his hands on my hips. "You look much better this morning."

"Thanks, but that doesn't give you a reason to put your hands all over me, asshole."

"Asshole? Ouch." He clutches me tighter.

"Dipshit? Douchebag? Motherfucking cock sucker? Any of those less offensive?"

He laughs behind me. It's a low, looney sound. Shit. "You know that was the first thing I noticed about you. Your filthy, foul, indecent fucking mouth."

"I don't recall saying anything filthy or foul to you the first time we met," I contest.

"No, you didn't," he agrees, sliding his right hand to the front of my pelvis. His rigid hard-on pressing into the crack of my ass. Unbelievable, he's fucking turned on. Dog. I'm feeling a tad better, been out of bed five minutes, and he thinks he's going to get lucky? Never mind he tried to kill me and is now holding me against my will. His head is seriously in space. "I knew just by the way you licked those pretty red lips there was more to you than just an innocent-looking face."

"Sure, you did," I call bullshit.




 

 

"I did." He slams me against him. "I knew I had to have you." He sneaks his fingers into my panties.

"Baz!" I snatch his wrist, attempting to stop him.

"I had to see if your pussy was as sinfully red as your lips." He circles his frigid fingertip around my clit, and I gasp.

"Baz!" I yank at his hand as I internally shiver. A burst of unexpected desire taking me by surprise. "Stop!" I fight him as he continues his slow, insistent assault. His arm like an iron extension of his body, rooted in place.

Baz moans headily into the crook of my neck as he traps me between his solid body and the immovable counter.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I struggle to breathe, still jerking at his hand.

"Making up for lost time?" He sinks a finger into my entrance and makes a rough, aroused sound when he finds me wet. Fucker. My head does not want this, but my damn, possessed body has other ideas.

My stomach flips, and it's not because of the baby this time. It's all fucking Baz.

He pushes me forward until my chest slams against the countertop and holds me down by the nape of my neck, fingering me incessantly.

"Baz!" I claw at the smooth, veiny granite, unable to sustain any traction. My thighs shake and core contracts as he strums his thumb over my clit until I see stars.

"Fuck, stop," I force out, but even I can hear the perjury in my own voice. This may be wrong. So very fucking wrong, but neither of us can stop. Our attraction has a goddamn life of its own, which is how and why we ended up in this whole jacked-up situation in the first place.

"You sure that's what you really want?" Baz taunts me, knowing full well how fucking torn I am. "You don't feel like you want me to stop." He pumps his hand harder, the wetness coating his fingers and my pussy like a spilt jar of warm honey. I bite my lip to suppress the words I want to say. No, yes, more, stop. Harder. Fuck me . . . now.

But I think words will just make this whole encounter messier than it's already turning out to be.

I fail at stifling my coerced moans as the caress of an orgasm threatens my insides.

"Oh, god!" I stiffen right before Baz withdraws his fingers. My body rebels from the sudden disappearance, an ungodly ache paralyzing me from the waist down. No! That psycho bastard really is going to make me suffer.

Baz releases his hold on my neck. Drawing me up and spinning me around to face him. We're both flushed and panting and starving for more. Baz rakes his deranged eyes over my scantily clad form. There's a terrifying gleam in those green irises mixed with hysterical lust. I'm trapped under his glare. He is the only man besides Benny who could stop me dead in my tracks with just one look.