Page 69 of When I Accidentally Snagged a Serial Killer

Fuck, her eyes don’t leave mine. Her body doesn’t even shift. Subtle tremors ripple through her, but my girl doesn’t lower her eyes. She does not cower. She does not wither. But she doesn’t fight either.

We’re on a bridge. I’m standing on it, holding my hand out to her.

“What will happen if I leave?” she softly asks. Good girl. She’s still serious enough to ask questions, to gather data.

“Then you leave,” I affirm. “And this…will not exist. We leave the bathroom, we leave these moments. We go back to you eye-fucking me through my workouts, ambushing me, and committing coaster crimes while I exercise the patience of a fucking saint. We kiss, we tease, we fall asleep together—until we’re both ready for more.” Now, I cup one side of her face, her skin warm with the flush. “But this, Jules? This is what more looks like for me. I give the command. You decide whether you want to follow it.”

“So, you’re a⁠—”

“No labels for now,” I interrupt before her brain talks her out of what her body clearly wants—of what that stubborn, willful pain-in-my-ass heart of hers wants. “It’s just us. Gage and Jubilee. So, to borrow your prior words, Princess: What. Do. You. Want?”

At first, she glances at the door. My body braces itself while a voice inside begs for her to stay. If she thinks this—us together—has been driving her crazy, it’s been making me fucking feral.

I can’t let her see how completely wrecked I am for her right now.

I can’t let her know how dangerous she is for me.

I can’t let her know how much of me is still hidden from her.

She needs to trust me to take care of her. Because there is nothing in my life I fucking want more.

When she takes a deep breath, a fist closes in on my lungs. “Okay.”

It was so soft, I almost believe I misheard.

“Okay?” I repeat from another night.

Jubilee walks with slow, purposeful steps, crossing to the counter, where she bends over the counter, stares at me in the mirror, and opens her mouth to say, “Okay.”

Thank holy fuck.

I don’t relax. Because this isn’t a relaxing moment. It’s a turning point. And I damn well will treat it like one. After tonight, things will be different between us.

Blood pulsing at the thought of reddening her pretty ass, I close the distance between us. Her legs still shudder, but her hands splayed on the counter are calm. Glassy eyes of blue and violet gaze up at me through messy strands. Even those damn pajamas covered in cats and crowns can’t hide the erotic outline of her pert ass. Like her breasts, they are perfectly proportioned for her. I am not biased. I have seen thousands of women—from drop-dead gorgeous supermodels to picture-perfect trad-life girls and everything in between.

None ever swelled my energy to this degree. None ever roused my hunger and need to discipline and pleasure her until she knows, without a doubt in the world, that she is mine.

None ever sucker-punched me and turned my life upside down—but somehow made it clearer, better, richer. None ever sent this much primal energy coursing through me.

She does not flinch when I touch her waist. She doesn’t tremble when I work my hands to her waist, pausing at the fabric of her pants.

I move an inch closer. And a gasp escapes her because she can feel my erection pressing against her ass.

A rough sound is wrenched from my throat. It’s the first time she does flinch.

Maybe she believes I’ll rip her pants and underwear down and deal a brutal punishment. But real dominance doesn’t need to throw its weight around. Real dominance is quiet. Her submission speaks first. My dominance only needs to answer—not with force or anger, but with the honor and privilege of showing this remarkable woman exactly how strong I am, what I can do, and how strong she is when she chooses to trust me.

So, I don’t begin with her pajamas. I slide my fingers beneath her T-shirt, caressing the soft skin of her back, pleased by how she relaxes. I catch her bra clasp and undo it in one motion. She draws a sharp breath.

After massaging the tension in her back, I glide my hands to her pants and gently tug them down, exposing her purple-colored bikini underwear. Catching the outline, I slowly bare more flesh. My pulse kicks up a notch, and my cock jerks. I’ve felt this pretty ass—in a darkened car—but never truly seen it.

God, she’s beautiful.

But the sight of her pussy? Yes, that is the most dangerous. My heart thunders, chest pounding in time with my pulse. Warm, velvet beauty, her plump, pink flesh glistening with her wetness. I’m convinced this feminine design is the most exquisite in all of nature. And Jubilee’s is the most alluring.

When I peer over her shoulder at her face, her eyes cross to mine. Glassy with tears, but the soft smile she wears nearly wrecks me. Her vulnerability. Her trust.

First, punishment. Then, pleasure.