I’d called it an experiment back then—a test to make sure my body would cooperate if I picked her. I’d come so fast and hard that I’d walked out of there both satisfied and more than ready for the job ahead. Eager, even.
I float my nails along the side of her body in an unhurried caress. I expect her to stiffen and toss my hand away, but instead, her body relaxes into mine.
My shock is so great I almost let go and spin her back around to make sure I’m holding her and not some other girl, but one glance at the foreign words carved into her nape, one hit of her sharp scent confirms her identity.
Could I have succeeded at taming the willful creature in my arms?
I rest my fingers on her hip, applying just enough pressure to guide her. When her body follows, melting into my touch, my breath snags. I try my luck again. Again, her body responds with little force.
I curve my neck to reach her ear. “Look at you, dancing with me, Miss Serran.”
“Is that what we’re doing? Because it feels a lot more like you’re dry-humping my ass.”
God knows why, her comeback shoots me so full of frustration that I stop swaying and release her.
She turns, head cocked to the side. “Did I hurt your feelings, Lowry?”
Anger staples my lips together.
“Don’t take it badly.” She reaches up and flicks a piece of hair off the frame of my glasses.
I suddenly don’t want her to touch me. “How am I supposed to take it?”
“In stride.”
I grunt.
“You know the rules. Youagreedto the rules.”
“I never agreed to stop wanting you.”
Her throat dips over a slow swallow.
I follow it with my eyes before tracing it with my thumb. “You might act nonchalant but you’re not.” I gently wrap my hand around her jaw. And then I lean over, vibrating with irritation and lust. So much fucking lust.
Though I close most of the distance, I leave some space for her to make the final move. My injured pride demands that she give mesomething.
Whatever song was playing ends, and another begins. None of its lyrics register, only its rhythm—a drumbeat that matches the thumping in my chest.
“Kiss me,” I rasp.
“You’ll regret it.”
Fucking stubborn woman. “You’re projecting.”
“Cillian—”
“Just kiss me, Electra. Take a chance onme—the man whoseesyou.”
Her breath snags, leaving me to wonder if drawing a parallel between Malachi and me in such a raw moment will backfire.
Her eyes drop to my Adam’s apple. I’ve never wished for magical powers before—not even as a kid, not after witnessing how it corrupts people. But right now, I’d give anything for the ability to compel the unfiltered truth of how she feels about me.
I tilt her chin up in a last-ditch attempt to pull her focus back to me. But her eyes don’t find mine. They drift past me instead.
The frustration that hits is ridiculous, foreign. Like some part of me actually wants her toseeme, even though I know that’s impossible.
I let go but force myself to stand still.
