Page 39 of Dissension

Calling after him, Kara says with exasperation, “Where are you going? Am I just to twiddle my thumbs and wait on you to be decent?”

At the top of the stairs, Dieter tilts his head slightly, giving him a hint of a boyish cast, charming and seemingly unattainable all at once. “There’s no sense in that, now is there, chickadee? Come on up and continue bitching at me; I’m not shy.”

Good God.

“Wretched man,” she whispers under her breath.

It isn’t that she hasn’t been in his room plenty of times before; she has. But not when he’s clearly about to change into something lesswet.

Standing in the doorway of his grand master bedroom, Kara stands with her hands on her hips, eyes pointed up at the ceiling. She doesn’t hear him undressing in his walk-in closet, so she says with a gesture, “Could you get on with it-oh-”

Without warning, he’s standing in front of her, the warmth of him radiating onto her, distracting Kara from staring upwards. She meets his gaze and wishes she hadn’t. Pools of beautiful green, alight with mischievous fire.

He steps up close to her in that charming manner of his, getting too close, using his presence to draw her in. The man knows his effect on women. It’s a literal problem that Kara has been battling against in the months since she met him.

Voice wavering, Kara utters, “Do you play these games with Gale?”

“I play games with different people. Fordifferentreasons.” His eyes are amused at her expense. Eyes of the clearest green, the prettiest of shades that Kara has ever seen. Clearly, a gift from his ice queen mother, if all the intense portraits she’s seen are anything to go by.

Kara finds herself taking a step back, guarded. She can’t get sucked into his gravity again. Shecan’t. “I don’t like games-”

He takes a step after her, all predator and prey. Voice silky as it brushes against her skin. “That’s not what I heard.”

He leans in slowly, eyes boring intently into hers as he does so. She knows she should look away. She knows she needs to step back and leave this room, but a part of her can’t. She wants to know what it's like, she’s always been drawn to him, even when repulsed.

Kara can taste her heart in her throat, blood pulsing in her head. Her mind is blanking stupidly and she can’t form a single word of excuse when his mouth finds hers.

His kiss isn’t domineering or aggressive. He doesn’t force it upon her, like something out of a bodice ripper. No, his soft kiss is an invitation, a taste, something to draw a woman in and leave her wishing he had takenmore.

Kara resents his absence when he pulls back with a satisfied sigh. His nose brushes her cheek, a ghost of a touch as he whispers, “Was that so bad?”

She doesn’t answer, feeling her heart trembling. She wants to kiss him again, but she’ll be damned if she allows him to know that.

His kiss is a party drug and Kara does not want to become an addict. She averts her face, pretends to be unimpressed-

It has the opposite effect.

He drops his wet swimming trunks to the floor, where they splat as loudly as Kara’s heart. Her face heats and she studiously doesn’t look down, even as he cups her face again. “Play with me, chickadee?” Teasing, soft, and sexy. “Please.” Oh, the soft silk of his tone. He touches a stray wave in her hair gently, drawing her attention to his face once more.

She wishes she didn’t make eye contact.

Those eyes consume every thought in her skull, just before he kisses her again. And again, leaving her breathless with want, a tightening in her core as she feels desire build. He’s naked. She’s fully clothed. A different sort of power play, giving her the edge over him.

It feels calculated. In fact, she knows it is. It’s why she also knows she doesn’t have an edge at all. It’s an illusion.

“Stop it,” she whispers as he places her trembling hand against his bare chest. She can feel his heart and she wants to squeeze it between her fingers. “We’re not doing this.”

“You’re not the sort of girl to be afraid.” He keeps her hand against his heart. A steady thump against her palm, telling her he’s alive. The way he maintains control and still appears to submit boggles the mind. “Why are you afraid of me?”

Why indeed? Perhaps it’s the way he makes her feel like she’s neverquitein control, that she neverquitehas level footing…

It’s the way he baits her with the concept of submission, but behind the smoke and mirrors he’s orchestrating it all with ease.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Kara tells him. “I just don’t trust you.” Everyone dances to his tune, one way or another. The art of it is in thwarting him, which Kara tries her best to do. “Don’t push me, Dieter.”

He makes a face and allows her hand to drop from his body. “Fine. Ruin my fun.”

Snarling at him, “Would you just put some clothes on, dammit? Dieter-”

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