“Twice a week.” Another step back.
“Four.”
“Three. I can’t bear to see you more than that.” My back hit the wall.
“I can work with three.” He rested a hand on the wall beside my head as he leaned down. “How often will you make an offering to me?”
“You get blood when you give blood. In my lab.”
He stared up as if to consider it, sighing when he finished weighing his options. “Where do I sign?”
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, glancing away.
“You trust me enough to settle this over a handshake?” He raised his brow. “You’re a poorbusinesswoman.”
“I’d rather there be no paper trail detailing our odd exchange,” I muttered under my breath.
“Since you think me a devil, how about we seal it accordingly?” He grinned, leaning closer than before. If I flinched, our lips might touch.
“No.”
“Allow me at least one simple pleasure,” he groaned.
He grabbed my face again, making me flinch as he pulled it toward him. He finally closed the space between us and captured my lips with his own.
While Silas was possessive and bold, his kiss was soft, and the lingering scent of smoke and blackberries added that extra edge that sent me somewhere else far away. He was just as intoxicating as the lingering taste of bourbon.
When I opened my mouth to breathe, he took the opportunity to deepen our kiss, gently running his tongue over my bottom lip, begging for entry.
He cupped my cheek to pull me into him, the other hand snaking around my waist as if afraid I would slip away, as was often the case.
A soft moan escaped me. The sound only encouraged him, as he undid my coat and let it slip off my shoulders. He tugged open the buttons down the front of my blouse, exposing my neck.
“The pomade was a nice touch. You should consider being more subtle next time.” He took my bottom lip in his mouth and sucked on it. That devilish tongue wiped the red tinge off his lips, peering off in the distance as he tried deciphering the taste. “Cyanide? Really?” He tsked as if I should know better.
“You have to at least admire my persistence.” I shrugged.
“You are a woman of many admirable qualities,” he whispered, kissing me again, sucking and biting at my lips as if hewanted to taste more. “It’s a nice flavor on you. I want more.” His tongue glided down across my jawline, the movements of his lips against my neck becoming greedy.
“I want to hear you beg for me,” I breathed. “On your knees, preferably.”
“Why would I beg when I could just make you melt with a single tongue-lashing between your legs?”
I pulled a small blade from the hem of my sleeve.
He eyed me cautiously.
I scored it across my palm, letting the blood trickle from the fine lines on my hand. “Consider this an advance.”
His knees practically buckled, his chest pressed against my lower abdomen, and his eyes held an unwavering focus on my hand. When he reached for my hand, I slapped it away.
“Uh-uh! How do we ask for favors?” I was almost satisfied with the image before me. Blood trailed down from my hand to my elbow and dripped onto the floor as I held it out of reach.
His jaw twitched with every precious drop wasted.
“Beg,” I repeated.
His glare burned hot as he held my gaze.
