I practiced this position many times the night before; it would be no problem tonight. I leaned back, but quickly realized I had no idea how to get his vise grip off my waist.
“You didn’t teach me how to get out of this position,” I said, pulling at his arm, so I could maybe get some air into my lungs.
“I thought that you could handle anything I dished out.”
I groaned. So, that’s what this was about.
“I didn’t know you were so touchy,” I said, digging my nails into his forearm. It was only a warning hiss. In truth, it was the only thing I could do.
“Why don’t you admit how wrong you are, and maybe I’ll decide I don’t need to prove it to you.”
I wanted to say, ‘Please don’t.’ But my mouth and brain were on two different wavelengths. My brain was a smooth line while my mouth looked like my hair in the morning. In short, a bloody mess.
“Oh, got a complex about not being as tough as you think you are?” I jeered.
He squeezed me tighter. “You’re pissing me off, brat. Go ahead, get away. Let’s see how tough you are.”
“Fine, I will!” Stupid, stupid mouth, why did you get me into this mess? I didn’t know if it was normal to speak to one’s mouth, but I’d realized a long time ago that normal didn’t hold a large residency in my life.
I knew I was screwed at that moment, but I wouldn’t accept defeat. I tried to pry his arm off me, with no avail. I dropped my weight, but I only hung there. I threw my head back and hit him in the chest, but he didn’t even flinch. My body was plastered to his and I couldn’t have hit him in the groin if I wanted to. And I wanted to. I squirmed around, but it got to the point I couldn’t move an inch. And that was when I gave up. With much reluctance.
“I don’t know what to do! Are you happy? If I can’t get out of this, then it’s because you are the worst damn teacher out there!”
“I think I want to hear you say the words: you can’t take what I can dish out.”
“No.”
Bye-bye, Self-preservation. Hello, Tenacity.
You’re going to get me killed.
He rested his hand on my stomach; it seared my skin as if it were on fire. And when he moved it, I was sure there would be an impression left.
“Sure you want to play this game?” he asked with a gentle, mocking tone that gave me the shivers.
I wasn’t sure what game we were playing. But if all he’d do was rest his hand on my stomach and think that would scare me off, I could have laughed. However, that’s not what he did.
He slid his rough hand down the smooth skin of my stomach and drew circles around my navel with this thumb. The soft touch had my insides liquefying and settling like molten lava in my stomach. My breaths became shallow, and I suddenly was not laughing.
I was unexpectedly aware of every shift of his body against my back while a hazy warmth clouded my mind. I was lost in it. And I didn’t think I even cared. His hand traveled south, bringing fire with it and rested an inch underneath my waistband. There were flames under my skin, and I wanted him to put them out.
“Say the words.” His rough voice ran down my spine, but there was a hint of darkness in it. He was growing angry with me, but I couldn’t seem to care about anything.
I’d forgotten how this even started, but his voice made reality come back to me full-force. I was enjoying the touch of a man who had almost gotten me killed and had no remorse. I pulled his hand to stop its descent, but as it went a little lower, the fire it brought with it eradicated any thoughts I had.
My hand lay on his, while my head rested on his chest. My breathing grew ragged as I wondered how hot his hand would feel if it went a little lower.
Just a little lower, I thought before I was stumbling back as he stepped away.
It took a moment for my breathing to even out and my senses to come back before I turned around and smacked him across the face. Or I would have, except he caught my wrist.
“Don’t ever do that again,” I snapped. The heat under my skin had morphed into an angry inferno, mostly from him taking it so far, but also from how hollow and flustered I now felt. I realized I didn’t want him to stop. This was an experience I wanted to have, and apparently, I didn’t care if an assassin was the one to show me.
I knew he could hear the thought because his eyes hardened before he said, “I don’t fuck princesses.”
The comment stung as he dropped my wrist and walked away, revealing the cold city in the distance.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN