Same.
Now my heart stops working. I’ve never had anyone say that to me before. My cheeks blister and my stomach whirls with…butterflies. “Wh-what are you doing in here?”
“You’ve been here for a while. I was waiting, but the auction is about to begin, and I wanted to talk to you before it started.”
I lift a brow. “What’s so important you couldn’t wait and had to lock us in here?”
“Just wanted to make sure you got the money.”
My brow furrows. “I thought I texted you I did?”
He rubs the nape of his neck. “I wanted a verbal confirmation.”
I take one step closer and so does he, until we’re standing an arm’s length from one another. “I got it. Is that verbal enough?”
“Yeah.” Sylas licks his lips.
My gaze lingers on his mouth and I suck in a breath, shifting away. “So, what are you still doing here?”
“Doing what you’re doing.” He tucks his hand in his pockets, gaze drifting down the dress again.
“And what’s that?”
“Hiding.”
“I’m not—” His knowing look shuts me up, so I shrug. “And if I am? I don’t know anyone. I don’t fit in with the people out there.” I don’t voice that out of pity, but we both know it’s true. I’m here out of desperation because I need money; I don’t know what his excuse is. “Why are you here?”
“I hate these things.” He tugs on the collar of his button-down. “Kissing the asses of people who don’t give a single shit about me but only care who my parents are is a lot of fun,” he remarks dryly.
Sylas’s sarcastic response baffles me. Nothing about it sounds disingenuous. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t give a shit about you or your parents.”
That has him smiling, and I don’t know why but it makes me feel good. “You really didn’t look me up?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“I’m a very interesting person.”
I laugh, taking another step forward as he does. “Mmm, who lied to you?”
“You seemed to think so when I was making you feelreallygood the other night.”
My heels click as I shift on my feet. “You got me off. That doesn’t make you interesting.”
His finger brushes my forearm, simultaneously freezing and burning me. “I could show you just how interesting I really am.”
Sylas removes his finger and from the corner of my eye, I see it suspended in the air, next to my arm, like he’s waiting for something. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I’m breathless and hot.
“I didn’t ask if I could touch you.” His eyes turn molten as they rake over me again.
My lips tick up. “Ask me and make it sound desperate.”
I don’t know what we’re doing or why I like this so much, but I can’t bring myself to question it.
He leans down, his lips close to the ear, minty breath fanning it. “Can I touch you? Please let me touch you. I need to feel you, Anna.”
The desperation in his voice really throws me off. I asked him to make it sound like it but didn’t anticipate the genuine desire, the yearn raw in his voice, the searing look in his eyes.
