And I thought for sure he was going to strangle me right then and there.
“Did it? Because it was very satisfying for me,” I said as well as I could manage—and I knew exactly how to get him off me, didn’t I? I knew where to hit him, I knew how to use my body to free myself.
The problem was that said body didn’t seem to want to be freed. He was so damn close, and all my instincts werecalming downinstead of flaring up, and I was grabbing both his arms because logic said I should push him off me, yet I was holding him and evenpullinghim closer without even meaning to.
The warmth of his breath against my parted lips. The heatof his body. The size of him, and the wayI knewhow well I fit against him.
“Don’t play games with me, Spade,” he hissed, and it was full of hatred. I felt it all, raw, to my very bones.
I had plenty of hatred for him, too. “But you’re so easy to play with.”
A growl.
An honest growl came from deep in his throat, and for the Time in me I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t afraid.He was a damn animal, yet here I was, knees shaking, stomach in a thousand knots, and I was wet between my legs, too.
My hands moved from his arms—on their own, I swear it—and up to his shoulders, and the collar of his shirt. I grabbed the fabric in my fists tightly, and it wasnotto push him away easier.
“Yes, that’s right. You might be my favorite plaything here so far, Heartling,” I spit, and I should have stopped, but didn’t. “Maybe I’ll stick around a little longer to play. Maybe I?—”
He squeezed my jaws hard enough to hurt, and eventhatdidn’t make me afraid. A whimper left me all of a sudden instead—awhimper,and I was melting under the heat of him no matter what my words said.
Wrong, wrong, wrong,insisted that voice in my head, yet my body had a mind of its own, and it insisted that this wasabsolutely, undoubtedly, twelve-hoursright.
“Iwillkill you,” March said in that low voice that vibrated on my skin, to my center, all the way between my thighs. “Don’t tempt me, Spade.”
“You’re the one holding me against the tree,” I said, and I realized my mistake too late when he paused, raised a brow, smiled only half a smile that looked good enough to eat on his face.
Because my back wasn’t against the tree anymore.
In fact, he’d stepped back—when?!—and I’d followed, and I was still holding onto his shirt, and my body was still flush against his.
Then his other hand moved up to my neck, to the back of my head, wrapped around it.
Time’s Teacups, what is happening here?
He held me there for a beat, only a beat.
Then he let go. With both hands.
The smell of him, of roses and of rain, overwhelmed me.
“See that? You’re free to go.”
I was.
Sheer panic took over me when our eyes locked. All the alarms in my head rang at the same time.No, no, no,they insisted. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to even move back an inch.
Which was absurd.
Which wasmadness.
Whatever this place was doing—orhad doneto me, I was right to want to leave all along. I had to find another way before I did something stupid that I would regret forever.
This was the truth, and I knew it. The panic lied—I needed to leave right now. Yet when I ordered my hands to let go of his shirt, it was like moving a mountain. My body rebelled against me, fought me every step of the way, but I did it. I let go of him, and I turned to leave, to run fast and far and never?—
A hand around my wrist.
March pulled me back, this time hard enough that I fell against his chest.
