"And I'm not a giggling schoolgirl. I'm pretty sure you can't."
His features darkened with the challenge I threw back at him, anticipation like sparks of electricity in the air.
I nodded toward a chair in the corner past the prep counter. "That'll work. But I have one more condition."
Taking his time, he glanced at the chair over his shoulder, then turned back to me, one brow quirked in question.
"You can't touch me."
"For fifteen minutes."
"Right. For fifteen minutes," I said, praying the interrogation wouldn't last more than five. After that, I could hightail it out of there. After a kiss, of course. I had to fuel the fantasy. It would probably only take him a few minutes to get free, and I had to be long gone by then. I could face his wrath tomorrow. While some might consider my plan cruel and unusual, he started it. He was holding back information as to my identity. I had a right to get that information by any means possible.
I grabbed the chair and pulled it to the center of the kitchen. If Dixie came in to check up on things, this could get really awkward. "Okay, sit down."
He hesitated a few seconds before taking the seat I offered, his stiff movements evidence of his reluctance. "Is the clock ticking yet?"
"No. I'll -" I glanced around and found a kitchen timer on the shelf over the grill. "I'll set the timer."
I ran to the office and took the belt off Dixie's spare coat, a trench she kept there for emergencies. Hurrying back as though worried he'd change his mind, I stormed through the swinging door to find him still seated. He'd dropped his hands to his sides and gripped the back of the chair.
I walked over, my approach wary, and pulled his thick wrists together behind his back. Threading the canvas belt around them, I tied it as tight as I dared. I wanted his hands to receive a regular supply of blood, but I wanted more to survive the evening. My gaze raked over every inch of him as I worked. His muscles contracted. Ripples of light and shadow swept over his arms. His breathing, slow, methodical, lifted his wide shoulders ever so slightly.
When I was certain he was secure, I walked to the grill, took the timer off the shelf, and set it for fifteen minutes. Then I stepped forward. He looked up at me, his appraisal was filled with a dubious curiosity.
I straddled him and plunged my fingers into his thick hair. It was softer than I thought it would be. Silky. I tightened my hold and tilted his head back.
His breaths started coming quicker as blood rushed through his veins, spurred by anticipation.
I pressed my body into his, tilted my hips, felt his erection through my jeans. His solid form was like nourishment, as though I'd been starving to death and didn't know it. My energy leapt with need. Just like the fire that rose off him, that need reached out to caress. To stroke. To inflame.
When I spoke, my voice was hoarse. Distant. I was already at the place I'd wanted to be for a long time: on top of the world with Reyes Farrow succumbing to my will. But to do what I was about to do was almost unforgivable, and I doubted someone like the dark entity beneath me was the forgiving sort.
"I have to do this now. Once I'm finished, you'll never speak to me again."
"And why wouldn't I speak to you?"
"Because you are about to be a very angry man."
"I'm about to be a lot of things, love. Angry is not one of them." It was not a threat. It was a promise.
But I knew better. He was wrong.
I bent my head to his while I still could, hovered my mouth over his, our lips barely a centimeter apart. Then I kissed him. His mouth was like the rest of his body: blisteringly hot. He opened to me immediately, and I pushed my tongue inside. My hands curled into fists, entangling his hair further, holding on for dear life as his tongue grazed over my teeth.
A warmth coiled inside me. Pooled in my abdomen. Tightened my skin until it felt too small for my body.
After what might be the only action I'll have for decades, I broke the kiss to examine him. To assess his emotional state. He was so startlingly handsome, I lost precious seconds just staring at him. He stared back. Slightly drunk, he watched me with his jaguar-like intensity, on the verge of pouncing.
He was going to want to pounce even more in a moment, but for a very different reason.
I leaned my head back, took in a sip of cool air, then asked, "Who are you?"
"Whoever you want me to be," he answered without hesitation.
This was not going to be easy. "No," I said, inching off him. "What kind of being are you? Because you damned sure aren't human."
He stilled, but it didn't take him long to realize what I was doing. Once he caught on, the fire that danced across his skin grew brighter. Hotter. He lowered his head. Monitored me from beneath his dark lashes as the predator in him took over. I could only pray my knots held.