Danielle Lori

He grabbed my hips and set me on the island, spreading my legs to stand between them. He slid his hands up the sides of my thighs, and the warmth of them made me shiver.

“For thinking I’m a psychopath, you don’t seem to fear being alone with me.”
“I can scream. Loudly.”
He glanced at me, like my words had an entirely different meaning—like he might like to hear me scream. My breathing became shallow.

A cool rush of shock flooded me as he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me within a foot of him. My heart was in my throat and my eyes squeezed shut, because I didn’t want to see how he was going to kill me. All I felt was warm skin and a tug on my dress, and then his hand slipped from my nape and he was gone.
After a couple seconds, I opened my eyes to see him walking away with a part in hand.
I stood there, frozen.
“Never really thought about it,” he drawled. “But I guess I’ve always been.”
Feeling something out of order, I glanced down.
My lips parted in disbelief. He cut my bikini strap.