Page 7 of Cupid's Naughty Elf

No sooner do I answer than I sense him. First, it’s his scent. He’s worn leather with a light note of citrus before the heat of his body stops behind me. Not touching me, but close enough to cause a shiver to rush down my spine.

My eyes immediately flash open and meet my cousin’s; she’s s standing in front of me. When she moved, I have no clue, but the traitor isn’t hiding her amusement. Her smirk is cocky yet proud.

You suck, I mouth and Miri shrugs, but then it doesn’t matter. Not when Liam’s large, strong hand grips my hip and tugs me closer.

Back to chest. His lips are at my ear.

“And what are you jealous of, sweet Piper? What are you hiding?”

3

PIPER

CUPID’S JOLLY SPANKING

Sweet baby Jesus, help me.

I don’t answer him. I can’t.

Every part of me clenches as his lips graze my ear and his rough exhale warms my skin. But then again, he’s always had this effect on me. His mere presence makes me weak, and I’m unable to quip or deflect, much less come up with a convincing and harmless fib.

He’s every walking, delicious red flag.

Moreover, Liam’s aware of this, if his low chuckle is anything to go by. The sound is deep and throaty andso sexy—the vibrations cause a kittenish mewl to slip past my lips before I can bite it back. It’s accompanied by a full-body shiver; goosebumps rise across my exposed skin, and my nipples ache behind their velvet confines while my cousin simply stands there, smiling.

Miri is enjoying my shameful moment, and I almost flip her off, but then his chest rumbles against my back. Each vibration is a lash across my sensitive nerve endings; I want to demand more—to be kidnapped or bent over the nearest surface—but instead, Liam’s grip slackens.

The fingers of his right hand trail to my wrist, caressing the underside for a second or two before I’m turned around by one sharp tug. Immediately, my eyes land on the curve of his lips, a cocky smirk on full display while a hot flush runs from the apple of my cheeks to the tops of my perky tits.

They’re barely contained by the velvet corset of my costume. I gasp as his eyes trail down the deep green top with a few gold embellishments that run from the center of my chest down to my bottoms. A single line of buttons, and the last one rests just above the clear imprint of my pussy.

An inch from my clit, and I did that on purpose. Added each one by hand last night, and the heat of his stare—the ticking of his sharp jaw—is worth every prick from the sewing needle.

I’ve left little to the imagination with these minuscule bottoms. They mold to my every curve, stretching tight over my slick lips and throbbing bundle of nerves and…

I revel at the sight of his left hand clenching. His nostrils flare as he takes my drink and hands it to God knows who while those green eyes burn with something dark.

I’m a slut for you, Mr. Rutherford.

From the corner of my eye, I catch an amused Miri sashaying away and toward the bar not far from us. I’m not worried about her, not when Jonah grunts her name in his ever-present annoyed tone a second later.

Not that I’m able to, nor do I want to follow when a grunt full of male appreciation meets my ears. Liam’s eyes are trailing from the juncture of my thighs, taking his sweet time with the perusal before meeting my stare, his jaw clenched. “You haven’t answered my question, Piper. What are you jealous of? What are youhidingfrom me?”

He takes one step closer. He’s towering over me, and I can’t help my automatic reaction.

Flustered. Unsettled.Wet.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Liam.” As I look away, the blatant lie leaves me in a whisper. It’s another nail pinning to his proverbial cross, and he tsks, such a sharp and disapproving note while two of his fingers lift my chin, forcing my eyes right back to his. My hazel to his green. They hold me captive, and the longer we’re in this lust-filled standoff, the harder it is to not flutter my lashes at him. To not lick my blood-red lips or push my chest out so he can take in my beaded tips throbbing for some attention. “You misheard heard me, Mr. Rutherford. I never said the wordjealous.”

“Are you sure that’s the route you’re taking? Denial?” A threat. A dare. Liam tilts his head to the side and simply raises a dark brow. He wants me to defy him. It’s there in the tiny twitch of his finger on my chin, from pulling my face up and now cupping it, and the tight grip isn’t painful.

No. What it elicits in me is a yearning to bear his mark.

I want his teeth. His fingerprints.

But then again, this is a game Liam Rutherford has perfected over the years. Quiet pull in and then a sharp push away, keeping me on constant edge. Moreover, the change in me is instant. There’s a flash of defiance in my expression before it cools into indifference.

A little bit of sass, too.

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