He straightens up with a grin. “Heads or tails. Heads, you choose where I take you and what I do to you. Tails, I do.” Heglances back at the balcony. “And I think I already have my place all picked out.”
I turn a deep red. But before I even have time to answer, he’s taken a quarter from his pocket, and lays it flat on his palm.
The sight of his hand stretched out like that makes me remember what he’s done to mine. I rub my palms, and his eyes follow my involuntary movement, but instead of the twinge of guilt I would expect a normal person to feel, his smile widens.
“If it’s tails, I’ll make your tail smart twice as much as your hands,” he threatens, still grinning.
The coin flips high in the air and lands on the back of his hand. He traps it with his other one, before showing me the coin.
“Well, well,” he says. “Looks like it’s your lucky day.”
My eyes widen. I’d somehow just expected that Damien would be the one to win. He always wins. But the coin has landed on heads.
I haven’t even thought of what my choice would be. My mind draws a blank.
On the bed, missionary style? No, that’s too boring—he’d make fun of me. In the bathtub, standing up? Slippery. And equally boring.
More than anything though, it’s the thought of having todecidethat turns me off. It’s like an unwelcome weight on my shoulders. Just as I’ve reached the uncomfortable conclusion that Ilikemy choice being taken away from me, Damien lets me decide.
Reluctantly, I meet his eye. He’s waiting for me to make an impossible decision, his lips twitching as if to say:I know exactly what you’re thinking right now.
“The balcony,” I blurt out.
He raises an eyebrow. Clearly, he hadn’t exactly expected that.
“The balcony,” he repeats. “And what do you want me to do to you?”
“Uhm… what you want.” I flush hotly. “Can you make it hurt?”
He throws his head back and lets out a bark of laughter.
Embarrassment turns to anger, and even though I should really be getting used to his mocking, and learn to repress my reaction, I just can’t help but lash out at him. “And you’ll take off your shirt,” I say.
But that only makes him laugh harder, and I clench my fists as fury seethes in me.
“Anything else?” he says, still shaking with mirth.
Suddenly, I remember his words when I woke up after the fever, and thought he was just a dream.Punch me and find out.
“I want to punch you,” I add, my voice cold and brittle.
His laughter vanishes, and he holds my gaze for an uncomfortably long time. But I never waver, and he seems just as determined as I am.
“Well, come on,” he says, turning toward the balcony door.
“Come on?” I echo, my anger disappearing as fast as his laughter did.Fuck. How the hell am I supposed to punch him? I’ve never punched anyone before. I only know how to… well, stab them.
I chew on my lower lip as I watch him slide open the door.
“Come on out to the balcony. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
His voice is hard, and I follow him out numbly.
“Now,” he says, once he’s closed the balcony door behind him. “Do you want to punch me while I’m dressed or naked?”
“Damien,” I begin, but his face is set in a neutral mask, and I know him well enough to realize he’s angry. And not the kind of anger that leads to a sexy punishment. “Dressed,” I mutter.
“Okay. Go ahead.”
