“Like what?”
“Like you care.”
The careful control slips for just a second and I see something underneath that looks almost like hunger.
“I do care.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Most things about me don’t make sense.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture so gentle it makes my chest ache. “I can hurt you and care about you at the same time, Anya. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Probably.” His thumb traces along my jaw and my breath catches despite my best efforts to stay unaffected. “Does it bother you?”
“Everything about you bothers me.”
“And yet you’re not pulling away.”
Every rational part of my brain is screaming at me to remember that this man is dangerous in ways I’m only starting to understand.
But his hand is warm on my face and his eyes are grey and steady and I can still feel the ghost of his fingers inside me from last night.
“I hate you,” I whisper.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know that too.” His other hand comes up to cup my face, tilting it toward me. “But you also want me. And that’s harder to admit, isn’t it?”
“I don’t—”
“Your pulse is racing. Your pupils are dilated. You’ve been leaning toward me since I sat down, even when you were pretending to focus on your food.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“It means exactly what you think it means.” He’s closer now, his breath against my lips. “You want me to kiss you. You’ve wanted it since I walked in.”
“I want a lot of things that are bad for me.”
“So do I.”
And then he kisses me.
He kisses me like he’s been holding himself back all day, his mouth claiming mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak. I grab his shirt to keep from falling and he makes a sound against my lips, something between a groan and a growl, and then his hands are in my hair and he’s walking me backward until my spine hits the edge of the lab bench.
I open my mouth wider and let him in.
He tastes like whiskey and cigar. His tongue slides against mine and I moan into his mouth. His hands drop to my waist and lift me onto the bench and then he’s between my thighs, pressed so close I can feel how hard he is against my core.
“Fuck,” I gasp when his mouth moves to my neck.
“Language.” But he’s smiling against my skin, I can feel it.
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
