Page 39 of Cold Mercy

At least I'm sorry, what?

“You’re enjoying this,” I say calmly.

“Obviously.”

She sets the glass down, expression shifting to less playful now.

“Okay, real one.”

I straighten.

“Stand where I tell you,” she says, pointing across the table. “And don’t argue like you always do.”

I don’t hesitate, and I hate how much I don’t hesitate. I move the moment she tells me to, like my body made the decision before my brain could argue. I should feel annoyed, offended, anything resembling resistance. Instead, there’s this low, infuriating satisfaction, the kind I’ve spent years teaching myself not to indulge.

While I take my place, she climbs onto the edge of the pool table with easy confidence, sitting there like she owns the room and everyone in it. In fact, yes, she owns this house, yes, also me in this fucking moment. She owns me.

She smiles at me, slow and pleased. “Repeat after me: Sophia Moreau is the smartest person in this room,” she says. “And I’m naive enough to underestimate her.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Nah, keep dreaming, princess.”

She just tilts her head, her gaze softening, into something that is equal parts command and seduction. She doesn't argue, just waits, daring me.

Fuck. She knows exactly what she's doing, that this look is undoing. I let out a heavy sigh, defeated by my own damn weakness for her that I didn't even have not so long ago. I don't do weakness.

I wet my lips, drag my hands together once, buying myself a second I don’t really need. My pulse is loud in my ears, my mouth suddenly dry, and I can feel the weight of her eyes on me, watching to see if I’ll flinch.

I repeat it, slower this time, with deliberate pauses, letting each word land where it wants to land.

“Sophia Moreau is the smartest person in this room,” I say. “And I’m naive enough to underestimate her.”

She laughs, delighted, tipping her head back for a second.

“Oh,” she says, amused. “See? You do learn fast.”

I step closer as I answer, closing the distance until I’m standing right in front of her. She is looking up at me, and I have to look down at her, the air between us tightening into something sharp and electric.

“Careful,” I tell her quietly. “You’re testing limits you don’t fully understand.”

She doesn't move or back away. Just meets my gaze, eyes bright, steady, unafraid.

“I know,” she says, just as calmly.

Standing that close, with her sitting there and looking at me like that, I know exactly what she’s doing to me. Her eyes, her mouth, the way she holds herself so deliberately still. All of it screams the same reckless invitation. Take me. Now. Here. On this fucking pool table.

I plant my hands on the edge of the table on either side of her hips, caging her in. My thighs brush against the inside of her knees, forcing them wider apart. She neither resists nor retreats. She just watches me, her chest rising and falling a little faster now.

I lean down, slow and deliberate, until our faces are millimeters apart. I can feel the warmth of her skin radiating against mine.

My gaze drops to her lips as they part slightly, offering a silent, unconscious invitation.

I look back up into her eyes. They're searching mine with a hunger she’s too proud to admit. A tiny, almost imperceptible tremor ran through her body. Her hands are gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles are white. She is holding herself together by a thread, waiting for me to snap it. Waiting for me to kiss her. Needing me to do it.

But I have to stop this. I have to be the one who does, because if I don’t, there’s no clean way out afterward. No pretending it was just alcohol or adrenaline or poor judgment. There would only be the consequences that crawl in the next morning, ugly and irreversible, poisoning everything they touch.

I tilt my head, brushing my nose against hers, letting our lips almost graze before I slide past her mouth entirely. I bury my face in the curve of her neck, my breath hot against her sensitive skin. I feel her shiver violently against me.

“You’re trembling, Sophia,” I whisper, my voice a rough vibration against her ear.