Chapter 26
Katana
By the time I stagger back to my room, my legs feel weak, my lips swollen, my body buzzing in places I didn’t know could burn. Every nerve sings with the ghost of his hands, the weight of his body, the growl of “you’re mine” still threading through me.
I shut the door, press my back against it, and squeeze my eyes shut. My fingers are trembling as I touch my lips. They still taste like him.
What we did was reckless. Insane.
And I’d do it again.
I collapse onto the bed, pulling the thin blanket over me like it could contain the chaos rattling my bones. But the truth thrums through my chest: I don’t feel trapped tonight. Not by Holloway. Not by my past.
Because for the first time, someone touched me, and I wanted it. Micah touched me like I wasn’t tainted or broken.
Sleep doesn’t come for quite some time, and when it does, it’s fractured by images of him—his black eyes watching me fall apart around his cock, the heat of his mouth claiming mine. My pussy clamping around him as his raw and raspy voice whispers, “Beg for me. Say my name and ask me to finish you.”
“Micah… please. Don’t stop. Make me—”
He answers by wildly rubbing my clit, and I cry out, the sound raw and bright. He moves his hand with a steady rhythm, his thumb pressed flat and circling, and I lose myself to the sensation: the burn, the ache, the dizzying lift.
“Good girl,” he breathes, and the praise makes me shatter. My body falls over the edge, and the world tilts into a long, searing release.
I come with his name on my lips, my hands digging into his shoulders as the orgasm rolls through me. He holds me through it, never letting go, grounding me as I tumble.
Our foreheads touch, breathing ragged, our hearts pounding. He stares at me with those eyes like midnight, possession lacing every syllable when he rasps, “You’re mine.”
A shiver rolls through me.
Why do I like the sound of belonging to a monster?
Morning comes like a slap to my poor, exhausted body.
I hear a beep, my eyes blinking open. Marcy steps through the door, slipping her keycard in her pocket.
I jolt upright, my heart in my throat. My face feels flushed and raw, and the way her sharp eyes sweep over me makes the heat crawl up my neck.
“You look… tired.” Suspicion edges her tone. “Rough night?”
I swallow, trying to keep my face neutral. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Her gaze lingers a beat too long, like she’s searching for a crack. Then she jerks her chin toward the hall. “Breakfast. Then meds. Move.”
I obey, but my stomach knots. With every step down the corridor, I’m sure she can see it on me—the secret I’m carrying like a live wire under my skin.
In the cafeteria, trays clatter, voices hum, and the line shuffles forward. My eyes move to his usual table, and my breath hitches when I see him, already staring at me. I fight the urge to smile, lowering my eyes.
His eyes bore into me, watching me as I grab my breakfast and take a seat at a table.
Marcy hovers, her sharp gaze boring into me as I eat.
I wait until she’s distracted, then dare a glance across the room.
Micah’s head tilts, his eyes pinning me in place.
For half a second, his mouth curves into the faintest smirk, meant only for me.
I can’t tell if he’s pleased, daring me, or planning something.
My breath catches. A shiver rolls through me and my thighs clench together. My pulse hammers in my ears, and my fork clatters against the tray. Marcy looks over sharply, her brows narrowing.
I lower my gaze, shove a bite of tasteless food into my mouth, and pretend I don’t feel his stare searing into me like fire.
But I do. God help me, I do.
And I don’t ever want it to stop.