Page 84 of Darkest Deception

His arm rests behind me on the back of the sofa, and once I know he isn’t going to do anything else, I turn back to the TV. The girl is sitting in her house shivering wet as rain splatters loudly outside.

Just as she goes upstairs, a loud bang sounds at the door. She screams, along with the girls in the room.

Helia’s hand behind me grabs hold of the back of my neck and pulls me to him in a quick, bruising kiss.

He lets me go a moment later, and I am left breathless, not knowing what just happened.

“Helia.” My fingers go to my tingling lips, my eyes wide.

The look on his face… He looks tortured, his brows furrowed, his lips pulled down as his eyes beg me to let him. Let him what?

What does he want?

Why the kisses?

Shouldn’t he hate me?

“You—you…” I blink, turning back to the TV. “Don’t do that again. I will walk away Helia,”

“Don’t you want this, Ambrose?” he whispers hoarsely.

“Wrong place, wrong time to ask a stupid question like that.” I jab him in the ribs, but he grabs my elbow and almost pulls me into his lap.

“Then tell me that you aren’t dripping from the fear of getting caught, from just the thought of kissing me, of letting me touch you right there, right now. Tell me I’m lying,” he whispers in my ear.

I stay silent.

He isn’t lying.

“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair, watching me, but I don’t look at him.

I have no answer. On more than one occasion, I have imagined him in such a dirty, disgusting way that I was ashamed to think of him like that.

To have him ask me about it?

For him to almost beg to touch me?

In my sister’s home?

I don’t know what to do, and my heart is too muddled for me to think properly.

There is still an hour left of the movie.

Everyone is engrossed in the movie, keeping them on edge. Though Remo seems to be bored more than anything.

And Helia’s body right next to mine is making it hard to think.

My heart is still racing from what has happened.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I shouldn’t want him. Shouldn’t accept this invitation from him.

It’s wrong.

So, so wrong to want my enemy like this. Whose hands held my throat, ready to kill me.

But my hand travels over to his lap, grabbing his large hand in mine, and I bring it over to my lap, to the hem of my jeans. I can’t find it in me to stop myself at all.

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