Page 39 of Prey

His eyes flash, his gaze turning predatory in a way that makes my heart climb into my throat.

“Everything I should have done since the moment you got on your knees and sucked my cock.”

The promise in his voice makes me shiver despite the hot water. My body responds instantly—nipples tightening, core clenching, that shameful wetness gathering between my legs even as my mind screams warnings.

Excited. Scared. Both at once.

I don’t know which feeling is winning. The fear tells me to run, to fight, to do something other than sit here naked while he looks at me like he wants to devour me whole. But excitement coils through me—dark and wrong and impossible to ignore.

“Nikolai—”

His name on my lips makes his hands clench beneath the water. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his cock twitches at the sound. He likes when I say it.

But what doeseverythingmean? My mind races through possibilities, each more terrifying and arousing than the last. He’s held back so far—touched me, yes. Made me come, yes. But always with restraint, always pulling away before…

Before what? Before fucking me properly? Before claiming me the way his body clearly wants to? The way mine shamefully craves him despite every logical thought telling me this is insane?

I press my palms against my thighs beneath the water, trying to ground myself. The hunger in my belly is at war with the heat between my legs, physical needs tangling with psychological damage until I can’t separate what I want from what my trauma has conditioned me to accept.

“I don’t understand.”

It’s the truth. I don’t understand him, don’t understand myself, don’t understand why I want him every time he enters that cell.

“Come here,” he demands.

My body moves before my mind can catch up. Water sloshes as I push forward through the tub, drawn by a pull stronger than logic or self-preservation.

His hands find my hips beneath the water, guiding me onto his lap with a grip that leaves no room for hesitation. Themoment I settle over him, his cock presses hard against my core, separated by nothing but water.

My hands land on his shoulders for balance, fingernails digging into inked skin as he shifts beneath me. That piercing drags against my clit through the water, and I bite back a whimper that would only feed his desire.

“Do you still want to kiss me?” he asks.

The question catches me off guard. He remembers—of course he remembers. Every taunt I’ve thrown at him about hiding behind that mask, every time I’ve asked what he’s so afraid of showing me.

My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he feels it. “Yes.”

The word comes out breathless, barely a whisper, but his whole body tenses. He nods once—just once—a sharp movement that sends ripples through the water.

Permission. He’s giving me permission.

My hands shake as they leave his shoulders, moving up to frame his mask. The material feels strange beneath my fingers, warmer than expected from his body heat. I search for the clasps, finding them behind his ears where they’re hidden beneath his dark hair.

The first one releases with a soft click. Then the second.

I pull the mask away slowly, like unveiling something sacred. Or terrible, unsure which I’ll find beneath.

Fuck.

The thought hits me before I can stop it. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Strong jaw that could cut glass, high cheekbones that belong on magazine covers, dark stubble neatly trimmed like even his facial hair follows orders. His mouth is full, sensual in a way the mask never hinted at.

“Gorgeous.”

The word slips out without permission, hanging between us in the steamy air.

His mouth curves into a smirk—the first expression I’ve ever seen on his face, and it transforms him from dangerous to devastating.

“Is that right, beautiful?”