“Good,” he says. “You shouldn’t.”
Then his lips brush against my jaw, and my heart flutters like the rapid beating of a hummingbird’s wings.
Ihatethat my body reacts like this. That I lean into it instead of pulling away from him.
“I thought you hated me,” he murmurs against my skin.
“I do.” I do hate him, but… I open my mouth. “I?—”
But I can’t say it.
His hand tightens slightly on my throat, and a sound escapes me—something between a gasp and a whimper that I’ve never made before in my life. I sound desperate.
Cavin goes still.
Then he pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and searching.
“Well,” he says quietly, almost to himself, “that’s interesting.”
“What… what is?” My voice comes out shaky, uncertain.
“You.” His thumb traces my lower lip, and I feel it everywhere—my chest, my stomach, lower. “Responding to me like that.”
“I’m not.” But even I don’t believe it.
“You are.” Something shifts in his expression—satisfaction, hunger, maybe both. He leans in again, his mouth so close to mine I can feel his breath. “And I think you’re as surprised by it as I am.”
He’s right, and I hate that he’s right.
Because this—him, this moment, the way my body’s gone traitor on me—shouldn’t be happening. I don’t even like him. I shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t feel like I’m coming apart at the seams just from his hand on my face and his voice in my ear.
I’ve never felt anything like this. Didn’t know I could.
And from the dark gleam in his eyes, he knows it too. Knows he’s the first to make me feel this way.
The bastard looks delighted about it.
His hand slides from my throat down to my collarbone, lower, skimming the edge of my neckline. He’s far too familiar with how to play my body. I’m vividly aware that this isn’t his first time, thathe’s experienced because of other women, and I’m so fuckin’ jealous I can’t think straight.
“Do you know what your problem is?” he says.
“I'm being held against my will with a man I hate, who I'm being forced to marry,” I say, my palm up in the air. “I think that about sums it up.”
He gives me a half smile. “Yeah, you know, it's not much better for me.”
I look away. I don't like the sadness in his eyes. It makes me feel like I want to make it better.
And I want to keep hating him. Ineedto.
“The problem is you overthink everything. Your mind races. I can see it just by looking at you. And you know what happens in a place like this?” He gestures around the room.
“I actually have no idea,” I say with a grimace, even as my heart beats so fast I'm a little dizzy. “It looks kind of, um, violent and…sexual.”
His low, dark chuckle is seductive, primal. Why is every nerve in my body on fire?
“This is where people let go. You need to stop thinking for once in your fuckin' life.” He steps closer, his voice dropping. “I can help with that.”
My breath catches. “What?”
