Page 84 of No One’s Daughter

​No, it was worse.

He knew what I was doing and he was playing me.

​He bit his lip, lightly pulling at one of his lip piercings as though he was trying to stifle a smile.

I ground my jaw.

Well, fuck.

I was wrong. It seemed the gloomy vampire did have a fun side. But that didn’t mean I’d let him win this.

​“New bet,” I said to Nikolai, keeping my voice low so Davien wouldn’t hear. “I bet he’ll break before me. He’s not actually interested. He just hates to see me win at anything.”

​Nikolai simply laughed. “Alright. Work away. This is going to be the most entertaining thing I’ve seen in decades.”

I took a step toward Davien, just as the song changed, closing the space between us with an ease I didn’t quite feel but committed to anyway.

He didn’t flinch.

But there was something dangerous in his eyes.

I reached out, fingers brushing against the front of his vest as I moved past him, slow, deliberate, letting the contact linger just long enough.

I circled him slightly, not touching this time, just close enough that he’d feel it—the shift in the air, the awareness. He watched me, tracking every step I took.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said, voice lower than usual. “It won’t work.”

I ignored him.

Instead, I stepped closer again, stopping just in front of him, close enough that I had to tilt my head back slightly to meet his gaze. My fingers found his wrist this time tracing lightly just above his pulse point as I held his eyes.

And before I could register it, his hand landed around my waist, pulling me in. Closing the space between us.

Oh fuck.

The scent of him wrapped around me, masculine and dangerously tempting. It was like it spoke to me on a chemical level. He smelled so damn good.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice still low, edged with something dangerously amused. “You might find that you like this.”

My pulse stuttered.

But I didn’t break.

I refused to let him win this. So… I started moving, slowly and intently to the beat, the curves of my body against the muscle of his.

His thumb pushed in slightly at my waist and his grip tightened as he held me there, against his—now moving—hips.

My breath caught.

Damn him.

We moved together in a way that felt far too natural.

The heat between us shifted.

My body wasn’t cooperating. Warmth was pooling low, and my pulse had picked up. The awareness of every inch of space—or lack of it—between us was too much.

He leaned in slightly, just enough that I felt his breath brush my cheek. “I think that you like it,” he taunted, his voice rough and baritone.