Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

Maybe he had another woman. Another woman other than
my sister, I meant.
He hissed again, and I knew I’d cut him again.
Shit.
But he still didn’t move or speak, just breathed, exhaling
slow, almost like a sigh of relief.
“Keep going,” he whispered, sounding breathless and
raspy this time.
Heat rolled off him, and I could feel his chest under my
hand, the slow, steady breaths almost sounding calm and
spent, like he enjoyed it.
He liked being cut?
Or he liked the fear?
Again, I was reminded of the night driving his car. I’d
loved how he didn’t get mad at my mistakes and waited for me
to do things at my pace. Just like now. He wasn’t mad I cut
him.
But maybe there was something in it for him, too. He
enjoyed toying with death. Fear made us feel alive.
I finished with his neck and rinsed off the blade. “Bend
forward a little,” I told him. “I can’t reach your face.”
He came in as close as he could, pressing between my legs,
and tipped his head down at me, our bodies chest to chest. His
warmth spread across my face with him only inches away, and
I felt self-conscious. “Don’t stare at me.”
I could feel his shitty little smile.
Finding my position, I slid the blade up the side of his
face, going with the grain, because my father did it that way,
and Damon didn’t say to do it differently. I shaved one cheek
and moved the other, grazing my fingers over his skin to feel
for any missed spots.
His warm breath hit my forehead, the heat of his body
everywhere, and I knew he was looking down at me, but I
suddenly didn’t want to tell him to stop, because for a split