Page 30 of Demon Daddy's Little Girl

It's been a few days since that night in the kitchen, and there's been a new tension between us. I no longer feel nervous around him. I'm not ready to let down all my walls, but I'm not so worried about keeping distance between us. Which poses a new problem.

I've known the whole time that Dezoth is attractive. It's hard to miss. But I was more focused on not being able to trust him to let that get to me. But over the last few days, we've shared little touches, small moments that are filled with tension. Now, I'm not sure what to think.

Except that I am lonely. I have been for four years, and he is so, so handsome that it's hard to ignore it.

I step sideways, putting space between us. "I could have managed."

"With the ladder, perhaps." His golden eyes catch the sunlight as he examines the cover. "The Complete Guide to Magical Creatures. Rose's choice?"

"She wants to know if sparkle-minths really exist." I accept the book, careful not to let our fingers brush. "She insists they're real because Nova mentioned them."

"They are." The corner of his mouth twitches. "Though they're quite rare now. I caught one for my sister when we were young."

"You? Chasing thaliverns?" The image of the stern Captain pursuing delicate creatures makes me bite back a smile.

"Minths," he corrects, crossing his arms. The movement draws attention to the ritual markings adorning his forearms. "And I'll have you know I was quite successful. Vashti kept it in a crystal jar by her bed until it died."

"How very fearsome of you."

"I can be both fearsome and accommodating when the situation calls for it." His eyes sweep over my body, and he shifts a little closer. There's almost no space between us, and I find myself caught up in his thick arms and the way he's staring at me again.

My heart thunders. The book feels heavy in my hands, an anchor keeping me from drifting into dangerous waters. His golden eyes lock with mine, pupils contracting to thin verticalslits in the sunlight. The markings on his forearms seem to shimmer as he shifts, but neither of us steps back.

"I should-" The words catch in my throat. Up close, the sharp angles of his face soften, and I notice a small scar above his left eyebrow that I want to trace.

"You should what?" His voice drops lower, barely above a whisper. It only heightens the way he's making my body respond to him.

"I should take this to her room." My fingers tighten on the book. "Thank you. For the book."

"Is that all you want to say?"

The question hangs between us, loaded with everything we've been dancing around for nearly a week. Really, it's been longer, if I'm being honest. His presence fills the space, not threatening but overwhelming in its intensity. My gaze drops to his mouth, wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like to give in. I might not fully trust him, but I think Dezoth would handle me the way I need - at least alleviate this pressure and loneliness a little.

"Dezoth-"

A strand of his obsidian hair has escaped its silver cord, falling across his face. Before I can stop myself, I reach up to brush it back. His skin burns against my fingertips, and I snatch my hand away as if scalded.

"Don't." He catches my wrist, his grip gentle despite the strength I know lies in those hands. "Don't pull away. Not this time."

The book presses against my chest, a barrier between us. My honey-blonde braid falls forward as I shake my head, but I don't try to free my wrist. "We can't-"

"Can't? Or won't?" His thumb traces circles on my pulse point, each touch sending sparks through my veins.

His hand cups my cheek with surprising gentleness, thumb tracing my jawline. Despite every instinct screaming to run, I find myself leaning into his touch.

"If you don't want this, I need you to say that." His voice is a deep rumble, his eyes searching mine. "But I can't pretend I don't want you."

My heart pounds against my ribs as he slowly lowers his head toward mine, golden eyes searching my face for any sign of hesitation. I tip my chin up in a silent invitation, knowing I could be in for a world of danger, but I'm dying for this. The first brush of his lips is tentative, a question rather than a demand.

The book slips from my fingers, thudding softly against the carpet. Instead of pulling away, I rise on my tiptoes, pressing closer. His arms wrap around my waist, lifting me until our heights match.

"Ada," he breathes against my lips. The sound of my name in that deep rumble breaks something loose in my chest.

My fingers tangle in his obsidian hair, pulling free the silver cord. His hands span my waist, strong enough to crush but holding me like I'm made of glass. When I part my lips, his teeth graze my bottom lip - not enough to hurt, just enough to pull my thoughts to him and not all the warnings going off in my head.

"We shouldn't," I whisper, even as I arch closer.

"Tell me to stop." His words ghost across my skin. One hand slides up my spine, cradling the back of my head. "Tell me you don't want this."

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