Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Blood floods down my body, and I find myself hot with excitement. “You can’t kill people just because they look my way. I’m good-looking. It’s gonna happen,” I tell him, trying to steady myself on my feet.
Nico places the head back on top of the other balls of snow, but he watches me intently from behind the fabric mask. It’s both unnerving and exciting to not see the rest of his face. “I can’t? You sure about that?” When he cocks his head, a shiver runs down my back, because I know he’s joking (or at least I think so). I also know he’s capable of murder, so is it even a joke in this situation?
I once read a study about excitement and fear stimulating the same places in the brain, so if you’re afraid of something, you need to tell yourself you’re excited, and your brain will align with that. Now I’m not sure if that’s such a good thing, because my balls are starting to tingle, and I’m imagining this masked Nico over me, slamming in over and over to teach me a lesson.
“Are you threatening me?” I ask, trying to breathe. At this point, I don’t know if this is a game of arousal or if he’s being serious, but like the adrenaline junkie I’ve secretly been all this time, I am provoking him, regardless.
"No. I'm threatening any man who stands too close to you, who dares lay a finger on you or disrespect you,” Nico steps my way, and I’m suddenly aware of the crunch of snow under his boots, our darkening surroundings, that we’re here alone, and that I can’t drive.
My heart beats ever faster. I’ve not promised him anything. We’re just two guys fucking as we plot my brother’s murder. Completely normal stuff.
And yet, he’s claiming me.
Or joking? Role-playing?
Or maybe this is what I want? To be claimed by someone who can’t stand the idea of anyone else encroaching on my personal space? Someone for whom I’m not unimportant or interchangeable. Someone who wants me without question.
My heart is burning. And so is my groin.
“I didn’t feel disrespected. You don’t own me,” I breathe out, focused on his blue eyes watching me from behind the mask that takes away all his softness.
“You sure about that?” Nico rasps, and when he takes another step toward me, I back away.
He steps forward, I step back.
Only inches between us and vapor from my mouth in the freezing air.
He steps forward, I step back. Our deadly dance of lust.
He steps forward, I turn around and dash for the house.
Nico follows like the predator he is, boots crunching snow as if it’s the bones of his enemies under his feet.
Chapter 19
Blake
My face is on fire as I burst into the cabin. The heavy stomping of Nico’s boots resonates down my spine, so I close the door with the entire weight of my body before locking it with a single twist of my wrist. The handle lowers when he presses it on the other side, and when the entrance remains shut, a wide grin stretches my face. This is just a bit of fun, and I’ll let him in soon, but I enjoy the idea of the chase, especially as seeing him in that mask really does something to me.
Overheating, I open my jacket, then kick off my boots and remove my top, because it’ll be fun to tease him bare-chested. “I’m sorry, but this is too much. I like the snowman better. He’ll treat me right,” I call out to taunt him.
A loud bang nearby makes me yelp and jump in terror. I turn toward its source and spot Nico’s arm sliding in through the window. He must have punched out the part that was boarded up. It’s a moment straight out of The Shining. Swift as a wild cat, he reaches the handle and pushes the window open to climb inside.
If I really was scared, I would have grabbed a pan and smacked his head with it, but I don’t want to hurt him, so I back out in helpless confusion combined with arousal at the sight of his eyes staring at me from behind the balaclava.
“You can’t run from me,” he states in a raspy voice and blocks the door with his imposing size. I know the social contract of this game requires me to run so he can hunt me down, but my legs feel like cotton buds and might break under me if I give up on the support of the wall behind me.
My pants feel so restrictive as Nico walks toward me, still in that checkered jacket and winter boots, still in the mask that transforms him into the top predator who will not be denied.
I stumble to the side, but he grabs my arm and presses me face-first into the wall.