Fine. I would just have to do the next best thing, then. I needed to feel his skin against mine. Needed it. I grabbed the hem of my shirt and went to pull it off, but his hands clamped around my wrists.
He groaned. “Fuck me.”
The blue grew excited.
“Yes,” I agreed and pulled my wrists out of his grasp.
?
??No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said while trying to control my hands. “Nobody’s clothes are coming off,” he growled.
“Just yours, then.” I tried to reason with him.
“No,” he sighed. I stared at his lips while he talked and I had the worst desire to kiss them, lick them, bite them. I leaned down with the idea to do just that, but he stopped me with a hand against my cheek.
“You don’t want to do that,” he said roughly.
How could I want anything else?
“Yes, I do.” I rubbed my cheek against his hand, loving how warm and rough it felt. I wanted his hands all over me. Ached for it.
“Maybe now. But not when the magic wears off. You will regret this.”
“Never,” I breathed.
I thought the word stunned him because he dropped his hand and I leaned in further. I was an inch from his lips before he turned his head. I took advantage of the position and kissed his neck instead. I felt him swallow against my lips—heard him let out an uneven breath. It spurred me on and excited the blue haze so that I did it once more.
He turned his face back toward me, and I moved to his lips, but he stopped me again. I stared at his mouth and had the desire to lick the small scar on his lower lip.
“Look at me,” he ordered. His voice was soft and rough, and it was hard to pull my gaze away from his lips. When my eyes met his heavy gaze, his thumb brushed my lip and sent warmth straight between my legs.
“If this ever happens, you won’t be under any influence. There will be no doubt you are willing.”
His words disrupted the blue haze, and I looked away from him. That was when I saw the scar on his bicep, and a rush of memories came to me. Red memories.
He watched me with smoky eyes while I ran my hands down his chest and around his hips.
“I want you to teach me,” I whispered.
A small smile pulled on his lips. “I’m not the best teacher. Remember?”
The red fizzled uncontrollably.
“You will be at this.”
“Yea? And what’s ‘this?’”
“How to please . . .” I whispered in his ear while I reached around towards the knife he always had tucked away in the back of his pants. “And especially, how it feels . . .” I brushed his ear with my lips, “to kill.” I brought the knife down toward his heart.
“Fucking spider,” he growled before he ripped the knife out of my hand and tossed it to the side. I was over his shoulder within a second and back out in the rain. I pounded on his back while the only color rain I saw was red. He dropped me next to the trunk of the tree.
“Stay,” he ordered.
A sea of rage overtook me, and I couldn’t stop myself from lunging at him again. His compulsion hadn’t worked, and he cursed. He grabbed my wrist and spun me around while holding my wrists with one hand.
He used his teeth and his other hand to rip one of my shirts to shreds. He used a piece to tie my wrists together behind my back while I cursed at him as anger boiled in my veins. He swept my legs out from under me, catching me before I hit the ground.
He grabbed my ankles, and I kicked at him and tried to twist out of his grip, but he had me tied up within seconds.