He freezes, then pushes his hand higher, his palm cupping my bare cheek. My heart skips a ripple of beats. His cock twitches behind his pants.
He pulls back, his stare dark with a sudden, predatory hunger. “Has my woman been a dirty girl, wearing no underwear, hoping I would find out?”
I shrug sweetly, looping my arms around his neck. “I hoped you would find out at breakfast. Under the table. But…this will do.”
He glances around the dimly lit alcove, then back at me. He digs his fingers into my ass, making me whimper. “Ye healed enough, Darlin’?”
I touch the collar of his shirt, undoing the top button with trembling fingers. “You know I have. You’ve been rubbing oil onto it every night. And I know those hands can do far more than a simple massage.”
He twists his smile with pure, unadulterated intent. “That they can. Wait…does that mean you don’t like my massages?”
“Liam, please!” I groan, tipping my head back against the stone wall, arching into his touch, desperate for him.
“You’re mighty pretty when I get ye all hot and bothered, Darlin’,” he whispers against my throat. “Now…about those tropes.”
CHAPTER 18
Liam
The ballroom is a cave of gold and glass. Crystal chandeliers hang like frozen teardrops, their light fracturing into a million diamonds against the walls. But the mirrors make this room dangerous. Floor-to-ceiling sheets of glass line every inch, leaving nowhere to hide.
I bring Lexie to the center of the room.
She’s trembling, not from cold, but from vulnerability. I’ve stripped her slowly, methodically, leaving the pink dress in a pool of silk on the parquet floor. Now, she stands naked, uniquely for me, her skin glowing pale and luminous under the lights. Her sweet nipples stiffen, and my lungs nearly cave in at the sight of her.
“Turn to your right, Darlin’.”
She obeys, facing the wall of mirrors. I step up behind her, my chest pressing against her back, wrapping one arm around her waist to anchor her. She whimpers. But she doesn’t shrink. No, she focuses on me.
“The rules are simple.” I nip her jaw, catching her reflection. Wide-eyed, dark with anticipation. “You keep your eyes on mine. In the glass. You don’t look away. Not for a second. Only whenI kiss you may you turn from the glass to me. But if you look away…the game ends.”
She turns her chin slightly toward me. “And…and if I win?”
“Every time you confess a trope you love,” I trail my free hand down her side, watching her shiver, “I reward you. We keep going until the mirror glass turns to fog.”
“Okay,” she breathes, spine arching. “Okay.”
“And one more thing.” When her brows lift, I add, “You will not come until I permit you.”
“Seems fair enough.”
With a low laugh, I command, “Then, tell me, Lexie. Give me one in your top five, other than aforementioned.”
Granting her a sample, I sweep the pads of my thumbs over her dainty nipples while I list a few. One bed. Mafia, naturally. Redemption arc. Forbidden love.
She hisses, but her focus doesn’t stray. “Fairytale retelling.” Warmth fills her cheeks.
“A classic.” I slide my hand over her stomach, dipping lower. My fingers tug at her trim nest of curls, then descend into her lips, approving of the wetness. She gasps, her hips bucking back against me. I reward her with a slow, deliberate stroke. “Next.”
“Enemies to lovers, Sir,” she pants, her hands coming up to grip my forearm at her waist.
“Mmm. We skipped the enemies part, didn’t we? Went straight to kidnapping.” I circle her clit, and she whimpers, her head falling back against my shoulder. But her eyes stay on mine. Good girl.
“Mmm,” she whimpers, her hips leaning forward. “Captor and captive.”
“Indeed.” I cup her breast. “No handcuffs anymore, Darlin’. But I’m still very much your captive.”
I capture her nipple, rolling the erect bud, thrilled by how she lurches.
