"And what's that?" I bite. If he's going to be brazen enough to tease me, he'd better be fucking brave enough to come out and just say it.
"You."
Fuck.
I sniff dismissively, trying to fight against the imagery forcing itself into my mind, "How unfortunate for you that that's not an option."
He chuckles to himself before wiping the mirth from his face, trying to hide his laughter from me, making me even more suspicious.
"What?" I ask, wondering what is so fucking funny.
He says nothing for a second, leaning down and trapping me in my chair with his hands on both armrests. Heat claws its way through me as I fight the instinct to cower or, worse, lean closer to him.
"Isla," he coos my name, voice full of grit and hunger. "Baby."
Ihatethe way my body reacts when he calls me that. Those two syllables alone make my skin break out in goosebumps and make liquid start to gather between my thighs. Already my clit is pulsing, the tension of denying him over and over building to a painful need.
His nose slowly traces down mine, and I'm frozen, waiting to see what he does next. If he'll make me admit it, or if he'll do us both a favor and take it without asking. I'm not sure if Icouldadmit, even now, that I want him. But I don't think I could tell him to stop, either.
"What are we having for dinner?" he whispers against my lips, his words at odds with the intimacy of how close we are.
"Huh?"
"Dinner?" he repeats, taunting me. "What do you want?"
"C-curry," I blurt out the only word I can even think of right now.
I can feel his lips lifting in a smile more than I can see them, victorious and infuriating. "Perfect. Be right back."
He vanishes into thin air, and I can finally fucking breathe, taking in a huge inhalation and trying to purge my mind of how close I was to giving in. Again.
And alsoagain, I have to remind myself of all the reasons it would be a bad idea.
Within moments, the incredible scent of curry fills up the house, drawing me like a magnet to the kitchen where he stands proudly with his find. He grins at me, gesturing toward the spread of food.
We eat in silence, me furious and him all too pleased with himself.
When I'm finished, I take care of my dishes, rinsing them and throwing leftovers into the fridge for tomorrow, pointedly avoiding eye contact. While I'm craving a fucking drink to take the edge off of my anger, I think my willingness to indulge in liquor with every minor inconvenience has gotten to a dangerous level.
Instead, I grab a soda and disappear into the bathroom, getting ready for bed with a long, relaxing shower and changing into my softest pajamas. Teeth brushed, face clean and coated in the skincare Eamon's been kind enough to get from all over the planet, god damn him.
Almost relaxed enough to sleep, I sneak into my room, hoping to escape all the things in the common areas that tempt me to make poor decisions. Leaning against the door, I take a deep breath with my eyes closed, opening them just to find the catalyst for all my problems standing before me.
Sweet Surrender
Isla
"Can I help you?" I glare up at him.
"Are you going to tell me what's been bothering you all day?" he asks.
No, the fuck I'm not.
As if he can hear my thoughts, one side of his lips lifts in a knowing smirk as he reaches out, gently pulling on a lock of my hair. "Pretty please?"
"No."
He tugs on it playfully before releasing, his smoldering gaze locked on mine, "I mean you can tell me, or I can guess until I get it right."
