The detonation sneaks up on me and grips me in its ruthless clutches. I brace the sheets for leverage, nails sinking into the cloth as more of my arousal coats his face.

If that bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Not one bit. Jonathan goes on and on, lapping his tongue against my most intimate part. The feel of his stubble adds friction I didn’t know would be this pleasurable. He does one long sweep from the bottom of my slit to the top, then he does it again.

He doesn’t stop until I’m a quivering mess on the bed. “Ohh…J-Jonathan… Aaah…”

My words end on a gibberish sound as I come all over his mouth. My legs are boneless and my spine tingles due to the force of my orgasm.

Jonathan climbs atop of me, his hand wrapping around my throat as his lips find mine again. It’s almost as if our mouths were never separated. This time, his tongue smears mine with my own juices.

The intimacy kills me, but it’s not only that. It’s the fact that Jonathan is kissing me without me having to somehow manipulate him into it.

It’s the fact that he ate me out even after I hurt him.

It’s all of him.

My fingers curl in his hair, gripping it as hard as he’s holding my neck.

He removes my palm, gently stroking the bandage and shaking his head. “You’ll reopen your wound.”

A sniffle tears from my throat as I murmur against his mouth, “Why would you care?”

His expression doesn’t change. “Why wouldn’t I?”

The words leave me in a haunted whisper, “Because you killed my sister.”

11

Aurora

The moment I say the words, they hang between us like the blade on a guillotine.

For a minute, I stare wild-eyed at Jonathan, not sure why I think he’ll chop my head off.

Wait. Is he going to?

His expression doesn’t change, but the lust that covered his features disappears. Instead, I’m faced with his stone-cold expression. The ruthless one.

The one meant to hurt.

I instinctively push back against the mattress. I might not be scared of Jonathan, but his silence snaps my shoulder blades together. It’s like I can’t breathe normally when he’s this close yet feels far away.

So far away.

His hand is still wrapped around my throat and I gulp, expecting him to squeeze the life out of me.

But that part, that stupid little part that’s slowly eating my heart, is serene, peaceful almost. That part believes that Jonathan would never hurt me. He snapped at me for aggravating my wound, after all. He wouldn’t do anything to me.

But that part keeps forgetting what Jonathan did to Alicia.

“What are you talking about?” The neutral tone of his voice and the fact that he’s not getting off me is pushing my thoughts in all different directions. I don’t know whether he’s bluffing or genuinely asking.

I could deflect or backpedal, but someone with a strong perception like Jonathan would read straight through me.

Not knowing what to say, I turn my head away and stare at the broken lamp on the side of the bed. Maybe if I study it hard enough, Jonathan will get bored and leave me alone.

I scoff internally. The chance of Jonathan leaving me alone is probably as impossible as the likelihood of that lamp magically repairing itself.

His fingers caress the pulse point in my neck in a deceptive type of softness. I have no doubt he’ll squeeze anytime he chooses to.

“Your time is up, Aurora.”

My frantic gaze slides back to his. “U-up?”

Is he going to kill me?

“I’m done waiting for you to talk. You will do it right now.”

Oh, so it’s not actually ‘up’ as I thought. A rush of relief floods me, and I hate how light my chest feels.

When I remain silent, Jonathan’s fingers squeeze lightly, almost as if he’s reminding me of his power. “If you don’t talk, I’m liquefying H&H.”

The relief settling at the bottom of my stomach slowly disappears. “You can’t do that!”

“I can and I will. For the record, your black belt friend was here earlier and she made the mistake of threatening me, so I might be in the mood to ruin her life.”

Oh my God. Lay! I should’ve known she’d get her claws out if I disappeared on her. Not that her claws can do anything to a man like Jonathan. She’ll only end up hurting herself.

Shit.

Knowing Jonathan, he’ll also go after her family to drive the point home.

“I hate you,” I snarl at him.

“You didn’t hate me when you came all over my tongue.”

My thighs clench at the reminder of the pleasure he brought out of me not too long ago.

“Now, fucking talk, Aurora. What’s with the nonsense about Alicia?”

“Fine, let me up.”

“So you’ll throw one of your tantrums? No.”

“I’m uncomfortable.”

“Liar.” His lips twitch. “You’ve been rubbing your thighs together.”

“Which means I’m uncomfortable.”

“You’re aroused, not uncomfortable. You think I can’t tell the difference?”

Damn him and how observant he is.

I take in a deep breath, but it comes out chopped and broken — just like the whole chaos in my chest.

Being cornered is one of the feelings I loathe the most. I’ve fought so hard to escape my father’s shadow, but I’ve never managed to.

Even though Jonathan has threatened everything precious to me, there’s a vile need to tell him everything. To just spill it out and…be out there for the first time in my life.

I know it’s dangerous and that it’ll probably come back and bite me in the butt, but I’m so exhausted. My body is full of bruises, cuts, and a healed scar that still hurts.

It could be due to the physical pain, the lack of sleep, or both, but I murmur, “Ever since the first day I came here, I’ve been receiving messages from Alicia.”

“What type of messages?”

“Recordings on flash drives. It seemed like her will to me. At the beginning, she said that if I got them, it meant she was dead. Then she went on to tell me that someone wanted to kill her. She also said that our mother told her to cut all connection with me. In the last message, she was crying and told me…”

“What?” I expect him to squeeze my throat for good measure, but his fingers loosen until he’s almost caressing me.

“She…she said you were poisoning her. You were trying to kill her.”

I expect him to deny it, to tell me I’m wrong, but he continues studying me with that calculative gaze of his. I wait for his words with bated breath, but they never come out.

“So?” I whisper.

His face is covered in that blankness that I can’t get past, no matter how much time I spend with him. “Where are those recordings?”

“In my car.”

“Where in your car?”

“In my glove box.” I’m bemused. “Why is that the main point here?”

He pushes off me, and the skin where his fingers were wrapped around my neck is suddenly hollow and desolate.

The fact that he stopped touching me so suddenly feels wrong. Why does it feel so wrong?