Page 65 of A Twisted Arrangement

He’s watching me. “Just keep smiling at me like that.”

The bubbly anticipation turns to heat, and I have to squeeze my thighs together.Shut it down, Scarlet.I can’t let him see me like this. He handcuffed and blindfolded me, for Christ’s sake.

He doesn’t push me. Instead, he sits me down on a bench near the ring. “Stay here.”

I’m itching to get up just because he told me not to. Hasn’t he realized I don’t like to be told what to do?

“Why are you always thinking about running?” He’s back with a small white box in his hand.

“Why do you always make it so tempting?”

His tongue wets his bottom lip, and I fail not to watch it.

His eyes are on mine when he sinks down to his knees, sending my heart thundering.

“What are you doing?” I squeak out.

“Give me your hand.” I’ve already given it to him before I can think about pulling away. His large body below me, brown eyes looking up, has twisted my brain.

He patiently wraps my knuckles with white tape, taking care to align each row perfectly. His head is bowed, hair tumbling over his forehead. His touch is warm, familiar, everything it shouldn’t be. Without thinking, I brush a strand back and run my finger along the jagged scar.

He stills, eyes shooting to mine. “You did a horrible job.”

I scoff. “Are you kidding me? You wouldn’t stop moving.”

He gives me a cocky smile that makes me breathless. “Yeah, because you kept jabbing me with that needle.”

“Well, if you didn’t open your stitches every night, I wouldn’t have to sew you back up in the morning,” I taunt back, easily settling into this game we used to play.

I’m not sure who starts it first, but we’re both laughing. My head’s thrown back, and my heart feels light. There are tears in my eyes by the time I can finally regain my composure.

His gaze is warm. “I like you like this.”

“Like what?” I ask, still breathless.

“Happy.”

My heart aches, and I have to force myself not to reach for him. How does he do it? How can he ghost me for a decade, show up and kiss me senseless, then freaking kidnap me and still have me wanting to go to him? “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Come fight me, Little Sparrow. I can take it.” He runs his thumb along my bottom lip and frees it from my teeth.

I stand, needing distance between us. “Don’t cry to me when you get hurt.”

“That’s if you can land a blow.”

I come in close, needing to neutralize his reach, and throw a jab into his gut.

He grunts and tries to grip my arm, but I dance away before he can touch me.

“First hit goes to me.” I grin.

“I let you have it.”

“Sure you did.” Adrenaline tingles under my skin as I hop from foot to foot, keeping myself loose.

He dashes forward, trying to grab my waist, but it leaves him wide open for a hit to the jaw.

I pull it back at the last second so it’s nothing more than a tap. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. I remember you were quite the whiner.”

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