“I don’t trust you, Kasien.”
“Right back at you, Kiara.”
My stomach flips at the sound of my name.
Without breaking eye contact, he slips a cigarette between his lips and flicks the lighter, the flame bright between us, his mouth level with my forehead. I’m forced to look up at him, right into those eyes, but I swear there’s a very real bulge forming in his black pants. I’m not looking down to confirm, but I can sense it.
“Did you enjoy my show yesterday?” I ask, smiling—or trying to.
God, please don’t let him see the blush crawling up my face.
“Don’t cheer for yourself, Kiara. I don’t have time for your bullshit.”
Gotcha. You’re lying through your teeth, you sneaky bastard.
“If you want me to believe that, maybe deal with those hard-ons first.”
His jaw locks so hard I hear the click.
Oh, he hates that.
Good.
“That day you threw me around like a caveman, you seriously thought I didn’t feel it? Or now? You think I don’t see what’s happening in those nice black pants? Want me to help with that? Is that why you’re here?” I shoot.
And just like that, I’m back on the horse.
“I can have someone sucking my dick back in my room in like… ten minutes tops.” He exhales smoke and winks at me, his lip twitching into a cocky little half-smile. “You’re the one locked up. Alone. And obviously desperate.”
I gulp.
And just like that, the horse kicks me off again.
“So, who’s the one who needs help here, huh?” His tone is pure challenge.
I stay silent. No words. No air.
“I think you forgot that I know your body better than you do.” His voice drops, smooth and lethal. “I know every tell it gives me.”
His eyes fall to my sports bra, lingering on my hard nipples pressing through the fabric.
“And right now,” he leans in, his breath warm on my cheek, “it’s inviting me in.”
He takes a slow drag, a smug smile unfurling across his mouth, and my stomach free-falls.
I don’t know what hits harder—the butterflies exploding under my ribs because I haven’t seen that smile in six years, or my pussy clenching on thin air because of him.
“If you beg really nicely, I might give your body what it’s asking for.”
Another drag. Another blow to my sanity.
He’s calm while I’m evaporating.
He flicks what’s left of the cigarette into the ashtray by the door, then returns to me, towering, unmovable, that look on his face like he’s already won something.
“So what’s it gonna be?” he asks and lifts his eyebrows.
His hand comes up to my face. Index finger sliding above my ear, the rest hooking under it, half in my hair. His thumb lands on my bottom lip.
