Arresting Attraction: How To Create A Criminal

Chapter Twenty Seven

Charlie's footsteps were an exaggerated echo of mine. Their stride was just long enough to put him in front of me, but his pacing was slow, keeping him behind. If I couldn't hear him, I could feel him. Power radiated through his body, projecting into the hallway around us, forcing me to slightly curl into myself, preparing.

"Can I tell you how incredibly turned on you made me?" He asked, but it was a question not requesting an answer verbally.

I gulped and continued my pace, my hands steady as I gripped tighter onto his blade, a comfort I'd become reliant on.

"I can't even begin to explain what I was thinking, your hands, your lips, those—"

"One more word," I spun around, knife pointing in his direction. "And, this, will go through your chest."

Charlie's humour was lost as he watched me with dead, cold eyes.

"I'd watch your tongue, Little One."

I was careful as I turned away, rolling my eyes softly, as to not wake the beast threatening to explode from behind me. Charlie wanted control, and right now, I couldn't give it to him. I needed to explore myself. He needed to understand that.

Walking again, I was aware of the close proximity Charlie was to me. I could feel the details of his shirt brushing against my back.

"Scarlett?"

"What?" I mumbled, nonchalant.

A click. Followed by the indescribable pressure of a gun at the back of my head, waiting. I shuddered as I came to a stop, my feet paused on their own accord, my body stilling while my mind wavered, ready to run.

"I would watch myself if I were you, Scarlett. I am not afraid to use this if I have to. You won't be the first person and definitely not the last. Remember that," he warned.

I felt my fingers clench, fisting around the knife.

"I'm not afraid either."

The pressure stayed at me head, as I felt the pressure of his hardness, chest and all, pressing against my back, holding without hands. Charlie's lips were at my ear as he purposely licked his lips, and breathed me in.

I tried not to shudder, to let the tingling sensation plaguing the side of my head spread over my body. Instead I stilled, entirely, unmoving.

"Good," he said. "You won't mind me taking that knife back then."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't a statement. It was a demand.

My throat was dry, course, saliva too little in my mouth to speak. I felt myself breathe, deep, uninviting, taking in as much air as I could to lungs too empty. He wanted to take away my means of protection, the thing he had promised. He wanted to destroy the part of me created.

If he took this back, what would stop him from taking anything else back?

"No," I whispered through shaky lips, thankful he couldn't see me.

"No?"

"I can't do that. Not now."

"And why is that?"

I took in a breath, somewhat exaggerated as I turned, slowly. My eyes were closed as I fisted the knife. I didn't want to look, I didn't want to be aware of the gold staring back at me, but I had to.