I don’t.
I do.
I—
“I can hear you, Blair.”
Blood pulses in my ears, a steadythump, thump, thump.
“You better run faster.”
His dark words sink into my spine. The air is tinged with the metallic tang of iron. I’m practically wheezing, fighting to breathe as I try to navigate the corn maze. The cool breeze bites into my skin as I slap stray stalks from blocking my path.
I can hear his feet pounding on the ground not far behind me, the distance between us closing far more quickly than I’d anticipated.
Instead of being afraid, twisted excitement sparks through my veins and spurs me forward. This cat and mouse game is utterly exhilarating in the most fucked-up way.
“It’s like you’re begging for me to fuck you, baby.”
Slick arousal drips down my thighs, and my cheeks flush as I’m unable to deny the way his twisted words turn me on.
I curve around the next corner, slamming right into a brick wall.
“Hello, Blair.”
Not a brick wall.
Eli.
How?
He grips my shoulder to stop me from falling back, his fingers singeing my bare skin. The blade of the balisong rests under my chin, tilting my head up to face him. Those ice blue eyes sparkle with madness and heat, adrenaline blowing his pupils wide in a way that should terrify me but doesn’t.
Flecks of dark blood coat his strong jawline, and more drips down the side of his face from the gash in his brow. Salty sweat clings to his forehead, locks of brown hair sticking to the bruised skin. Brett and Riley really did a number on him, but even with all the cuts and marks, I’m drawn toward him.
I try to reject the pull.
This is Eli Cross we’re talking about.
I’m not supposed to feel this way about a nobody like him.
Except…he isn’t really a nobody.
The Eli Cross everyone knows is completely at odds with the persona he has created online. Phantom is a viral sensation. He is a video game legend who brings in hundreds of thousands of viewers and scores brand deals people could only dream of. Women thirst over his photos and videos, commenting the type of R-rated stuff you see in an all-sex-no-plot romance novel. Heis probably the biggest success to come out of our graduating class…and yet, my brain just can’t make it make sense.
My friends hate him, our peers fear him, and the town avoids him. He’s supposed to just be an outcast with a knife obsession.
A knife you let him fuck you with.
That pulse runs through my treacherous core again, and I squeeze my thighs together to stave off the need.
Eli releases my shoulder, his hand pushing between my thighs, forcing them back open.
“What are you doing?” I press my palms against his chest, pushing him away. But my panic backfires as I stumble, feet tangling beneath me, sending my ass right to the hard ground.
“Exactly what I promised.”
He’s on top of me before I can even blink, hand around my neck and hips between my thighs. He’s already hard, and I can’t stop the breathy gasp that spills from my lips when I feel his length press against my center.
