Page 113 of Ricochet
He takes his hand off the knob and slowly turns to face me as though he’s afraid of making any sudden movements. Fear has joined the rage etched all over his face and swirling in his dark eyes.
“Don’t be fucking stupid.”
“How about you look in a mirror when you say that?” I snap back at him.
Stone growls as he takes a step forward. In response, I press the blade a little harder against my skin. His nostrils flare as he blows out a breath through his nose like a fucking bull.
“Fucking stop this.”
“You first. You always say you’ll give me anything I want. Fucking prove it.”
I can practically see the war raging in his mind. It’s probably like a shootout in there.
I guess we’ll see if I can get away with a knife in a gunfight.
He’s shaking worse than ever. I’m pretty sure I’m staring into the eyes of the beast right now. The one who would eat me alive if Stone let him.
Maybe I should be running, but I’m not afraid of him. I’m only afraid of what he might do that takes him away from me. I appreciated that I had to wait to see him kill again so he could plan it out so we’d both be safe. I’m willing to wait again, no matter how long it takes. I’m also willing to do whatever I have to to keep his ass out of prison.
Finally making his decision, he leans over and places his gun on the coffee table.
“Now drop the knife,” he says, voice stiff and cautious.
I don’t. I continue holding it at my neck. “Swear to me first you’re not going to go after him. Promise you won’t kill him.”
He glances away, and his jaw ticks.
I move the blade away from my throat only to press it against my forearm. He gets one step before I’m sliding the sharp steel across my skin, slicing it open. Blood drips down my arm and onto the floor.
Stone’s panic becomes a tangible thing.
“Fuck! Okay, okay! Ricochet!”
Didhejust safeword?
Is that all I had to do instead of just cutting the shit out of my arm?
His shoulders slump with defeat, his chest heaving. “Okay. I fucking swear. Please.Pleasejust drop the knife, Callum.”
This time, I do. I lower it to my side before letting it slip through my fingers and clatter to the vinyl flooring at my feet. It takes Stone a split second to get to me. He crosses the room and takes my face between his hands before crashing his mouth to mine. I don’t fight him. I let him kiss me. My body is drained of every ounce of energy from fighting him already.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers shakily against my lips. “I’m so sorry. I fucking lost it.”
“Yeah, you did,” I agree.
“I swear I’ll never make you do that again.” He presses his forehead against mine as one of his hands moves to the nape of my neck, squeezing it. “I should fucking punish you for hurting yourself like that though.”
“So do it.”
He pulls back, a deep crease between his brows. “Callum…”
Reaching up, I move the collar of my shirt to the side, revealing the spot where he bit me pretty hard back at the cabin. “Are your marks still there?”
He winces, and I have my answer before he speaks. “A little.”
“I like your marks, Stone. I like it when you’re rough with me. So how about you give me what I want while purging some of that fucking rage you have? Give us what we both need.”
Because even though I won this fight, I can still feel it coming off of him in waves. It’s like he’s experiencing withdrawals from his usual drug—the blood we both crave, just in different ways. He’s still trembling, face flushed. His heavy breaths are hot on my face.