Keep Me: A Dark Crime Syndicate Romance by Summer O'Toole

Author:Summer O'Toole [O'Toole, Summer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-05-31T18:30:00+00:00

Reggie

There’s not even a goddamn door. This bathroom is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. But not as ridiculous as Roan thinking I’d ask him for help now. Or so I thought…Until it takes me ten minutes to get my pants a quarter of the way down my thigh.

The whole time, Roan stands on the other side of the glass watching me struggle. What makes it worse is that he doesn’t gloat. All he has to do is stand there with a slight cock of his head and the ghost of a smirk on his lips, and I feel two feet tall. Somehow, despite throwing me around like a sack of potatoes, there’s only a light smudge on his shirt while I look and smell like a sewer rat.

“Jackass, get in here.” I jerk my head at him. The smug bastard cups his ear and leans toward the glass, his brows squished together. “Please.” I just want this shit off. The thought of the grossest city-street water all over me makes my skin crawl.

He doesn’t move an inch, but raises an eyebrow. I throw my head back and give in. “Would you please help me get my clothes off?”1

“Begging suits you.” His eyes blacken and his voice comes out hoarse, so gravelly that I can feel it scrape down my arms like grit. He walks past me and turns on the water. The shower isn’t separated from the rest of the bathroom by anything other than space. It’s tucked into a corner, sharing the same blue-tiled floor as the rest of the room. No curtains, no tub, no door, not even a half wall. Everything is out in the open.

I hear a flick of metal and then feel the sharp point of a pocket knife drag across my shoulder. I swallow deeply as he coasts the blade up the slope of my neck and stops below my jaw. “I can see your pulse.” He presses the flat of the knife deeper into my skin, and I feel the thump of my pulse push into it.

Everything is narrowed down to the delicate point biting at my skin so thinly covering my carotid artery. His presence at my back is suffocating, even though our only place of contact is his knife at the juncture of my throat. I take long and full breaths through my nose, doing anything to keep my pulse from rising and jumping into his waiting blade.

He lifts it off my neck and uses it to brush my wet hair off my shoulder. “Hope you didn’t like this shirt too much.” He cuts the straps of my tank top, and it falls into a pile at my hips.

“I’m burning these clothes anyway.”

I peek at the mirror next to me to watch our reflections as he unclasps my bra, and his chest caves on a heavy exhale. I pinch my arms to my side so that when he cuts my bra straps next, it doesn’t fall to the ground.

My cheeks grow hot, and my skin prickles before I let it fall.

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