Monster in His Eyes(31)

His eyes slowly open to meet my gaze. He doesn't move-doesn't  react-stares at me so hard it feels like he's eye-fucking my soul, like  maybe he thought he heard me, but it couldn't have possibly been so.

So I say it again. "I love you."

The second time gets a reaction, his expression strained like he's  fighting off a flinch. Before I can do anything else, he speaks quietly.  "Don't say it unless you mean it."

"I love you," I say for the third time. "I lo-"

I'm cut off mid-word. Naz is up out of the seat with me clinging to him  in shock. He roughly drops me on his desk, things digging into my back.  Stepping between my legs, one hand clutches my hip to keep me in place  as his other hand settles on my neck. He thrusts inside of me hard, and I  gasp, the noise cut off when the hand around my throat squeezes.

My chest viciously burns when I try to inhale, pressure mounting inside  of me. He fiercely thrusts into me again and again, not letting go of my  neck. My vision blurs, time standing still, as his calloused fingers  press against my jugular.

I can't breathe.

I can't breathe.

I can't breathe.

The pressure builds, and builds, and builds, until I feel like I'm going  to burst. Both hands clutch his arm, grasping it as tightly as he's  pressing against my neck, terror like I've never known overwhelming me. I  claw at the skin of his arm, trying to pull him off, but he's strong.

So strong.

Too strong.

Seconds feel like hours. It's only a few, no more than ten. Ten seconds  that last an eternity as he chokes me. The pressure builds until it has  nowhere else to go, blackness speckling my vision as I explode.

It's terrifying, the way my body seems to have caught fire, the bomb  going off inside of me, obliterating me at the core. I inhale sharply,  my lungs hungrily swelling as the weight on my neck lessens when he  loosens his hold.

My body convulses, a shrill sound escaping me, primal, inhuman. I'm a fucking animal.

Orgasm rocks me, tingling my scalp and curling my toes. I desperately  try to catch my breath but every muscle spasm knocks it right back out  of me as I gasp... and gasp... and gasp for more air. It feels like it  goes on forever, the pleasure so intense, and the high so high, that  before it even dissipates I feel like I've slammed into the ground.

"Yellow," I cry out, the word strangled. All at once Naz's hand leaves  my neck entirely as he slows his movements. He doesn't stop, doesn't  pull out, leaning further over the desk to look down at me. His eyes  meet mine, worried. Tears obscure my vision, one slipping down my cheek  that he wipes away.

He pulls me up, shifting me to the edge of the desk, his arms wrapping  around me. His movements are measured, his hands gentle. A strange sort  of elation settles through me as my body relaxes, a lingering tingle in  my limbs as he holds me against his chest. Never in my life have I felt  such force. Never before have I been so grateful just to breathe.

I've never felt so alive.

It's sick. Maybe I'm sick. But I'm almost tempted to ask him to do it again.                       
       
           



       

I don't, though. I do nothing.

I say nothing.

He finishes not long after. He doesn't pull out this time. I can feel  him coming inside of me, convulsing, filling all of me with all of him  for the first time.

He stops then, his breathing haggard, as he whispers into my hair, "I love you, too."





I'm alone.

I sense it as soon as I open my eyes.

The bedroom is pitch black. It's the middle of the night, though I'm not  sure of the time or how long I've been asleep. I'm stark naked but  wrapped up in Naz's sheets, the scent of him clinging to me.

I roll over onto my side, blinking away the sleep. Reaching over, I run  my hand along the crisp white sheets. Naz's side of the bed is bitter  cold. He's been gone for a while.

I contemplate closing my eyes again, figuring he'll be back eventually, but curiosity gets the best of me.

Where could he be?

Climbing out of bed, I grab Naz's button down shirt from the floor and  pull it on, fastening a few of the buttons on my way out the door. I  head downstairs, hearing a faint swishing sound when I reach the bottom  of the stairs.

A light shines from the laundry room. Stepping that way, I grasp the  knob and open the door, cringing from the brightness when I look inside.  The room is empty, completely still, except for the swishing of the  washing machine.

He's doing laundry? Now?

It has to be at least three in the morning, maybe four. We didn't go to  bed until midnight, making love yet again before I fell asleep. The  second time had been nothing but gentle, none of that aggression  present, like it had been purged from him down in the den. The memory of  it makes the hair on my nape prickle. He made no apologies for it.

I'm not sure I want him to be sorry, anyway.

Turning away from the laundry room, I stroll through the rest of the  house, not finding him in any of the usual places. Everything is dark  and cold, goose bumps coating my skin as I wrap my arms around my chest.

I go from the kitchen to the den to the living room, my footsteps  tentative as I glance toward the front door. I stare at it in the  darkness, noticing right away that it's ajar. The deadbolt is facing up,  the chain lock dangling.

Walking over to it, I grasp the knob and pull it open, shivering at the  blast of cool air. My eyes scan the pitch-black neighborhood as I peek  out, making sure nobody is around, before stepping half-clothed into the  doorway and tensing.

The Mercedes isn't where he parked it earlier.

I stare at the vacant driveway and step onto the porch, my eyes scanning the surrounding street, but it's nowhere to be seen.

"What are you doing?"

The low voice behind me makes me jump as I spin around, clutching my  chest. My heart is pounding like a bass drum, echoing in my ears when I  see Naz standing inside the house, near the door. "You scared me!"

He's wearing a pair of dark sweat pants, barefoot, bare chested,  partially encased in shadows that fade away when he steps forward. He  raises an eyebrow, his expression serious when he asks again, "What are  you doing?"

"I woke up and you were gone," I say, wrapping my arms tighter around me  as another gust of cold air wafts by, making me shiver. Before I can  say anything else, Naz grabs my arm, pulling me back inside the house.

He shuts the door, making a point to lock it again, before he speaks. "I couldn't sleep."

"Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere."

"But your car's gone."

"It's in the garage."

"Why?"

"Because that's where I put it."

His answers spark more questions, ones I don't get to ask. He reaches  toward me, pressing his palm flat against my cheek, before his hand  drifts down my neck. I tilt my head back, expecting him to keep going,  but he pauses like that, his fingertips pressing against the pulse  point. "Your heart's racing."

"It usually is around you."

His hand moves lower, his thumb grazing the dip in my throat as I swallow harshly. "Did I scare you?"

"I just said you did."

"That's not what I meant," he says, his eyes leaving mine to look at his hand wrapped around my throat.

Oh. That.

Slowly, I nod when he meets my eyes again.

"Did you like it?"

I hesitate before nodding again.

The corner of his lip twitches as his hand drifts lower, down my chest,  before he pulls away. "The car's in the garage because I cleaned it out.  Like I said, I couldn't sleep."

"What was there to clean?" I ask. "Your car is always pristine."

"You haven't seen the trunk."

I laugh. "What's in the trunk?"

"Nothing now."

He takes a step toward me, wrapping an arm around me, as he kisses the  top of my head. "I have work to do. You should go upstairs."

He starts to walk away, but I catch his arm to stop him, not wanting to  go upstairs without him. He stalls, glancing down at where I'm touching  him. My eyes drift that way, and I tense, seeing the claw marks on his  arm. "Did I do that to you?"                       
       
           



       

He doesn't respond, merely leaning toward me, pressing a soft kiss on my  lips before pulling from my grasp. "Go get some sleep, Karissa. I'll be  up in a bit."

Naz walks out of the room, leaving me standing there alone as he heads  for a door beyond the kitchen, one that leads into the garage, I gather,  when I hear the engine of the Mercedes roar to life seconds later.  Sighing, I turn away and go back upstairs, not bothering to take off his  shirt when I climb back into bed.





Naz is awake before me the next morning …  if he even slept at all.

When I climb out of bed and venture downstairs, he's already showered and dressed, standing in the kitchen washing dishes.