Page 57 of The Sea Witch's Son

“No.”

My lips ease into a smile, “I think you hate how much you don’t hate me.”

“I think you’re certifiably insane.”

Ducking my head, I wrap her arms around my neck. The distance between our bodies shrinks to nothing, our chests perfectly flush together as I lift her up.

Melody’s toes brush my knees, her feet dangling high off the ground. The stubborn girl refuses to wrap her legs around my waist again, so I leave her there, hanging off my neck.

It is rather enjoyable, actually.

“I think you hate the fact it’s my face that haunts your nightmares every night. It’s my body filling those filthy fantasies that keep you tossing and turning.”

A flush creeps up her neck and spreads across her face.

“I think you hate knowing I’ve seen the ugly side you hide from the world and I keep coming back for more.”

I brush back a strand of dark red hair, feeling the thundering beat of her heart against my chest.

“I think you hate that after years of pining for a hero, it’s a villain who finally captures your attention.”

The sting of her nails dig into the back of my neck.

“You don’t know me at all.”

“I know everything about you, little saint.” Blowing a puff of air across her lips, I watch her swallow it whole, “Which is why I know a man like Finley could never keep you satisfied. He’s too soft. Too weak.”

She lets out a bitter laugh, “And you’re just the opposite.”

“No. You are.” I tilt my head, staring into those big blue eyes, “You are passionate and deceitful and far too intelligent for a man of his character.”

Her eyes sweep over the sharp edges of my face, soaking in the shadows and crevices my flawless complexion has to offer.

“What do you want, Marlin?”

“I want your fear, little saint.” I lick my lips slowly, “I want your darkest secrets. Your greatest desires. I want to break that precious mind until the only thing it bleeds are thoughts of me.”

Her eyes shutter close, “I have nothing to give you.”

“Not yet, but you will.”

And then I kiss her.

It’s soft and sweet and exactly what you would expect from a man like Finley. It’s the gentle caress of my tongue, softly stroking the seam of her bottom lip as though it’s waiting for an invitation.

In other words, it’s plain and boring.

Melody keeps her lips firmly sealed. Her displeasure radiates from the nails raking across my scalp, to the agitated friction of her body.

“Should I kiss the girl the way she deserves? Or should I let Finley continue this sad seduction?”

“Kiss me.” She whispers back without hesitation.

I reward her with a smack on the ass. Her mouth opens on a gasp and I jam my tongue inside. Any sense of delicacy disappears as I claim her mouth, biting her lip until blood flows with the stroke of my tongue.

Her arms tremble around my neck, but the silly girl does not lift her legs. I take matters into my own hands and pin her against the closest wall, hiking up those hips and stepping in the space between them.

She kisses me back with just as much venom. Her nails claw at my shirt while her teeth do a number on my tongue. Our lips are fused together, our heavy pants disappearing into the cavern of the other’s mouth.

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