Page 70 of Veil of Smoke

He does.

The space between us hums. The wine sits untouched on the table. My nerves don’t rest. They crackle under my skin, sharp and alive.

“You know,” I say, tracing the base of my glass with one finger, “I used to think power was in knowing everything. Now I think it’s in knowing when not to ask.”

He leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. “Then you’re dangerous.”

“Only to men who forget the rules.”

His tongue slides along the inside of his cheek. He’s chewing on my words, tasting them down to the marrow.

I rise.

Walk behind him.

Breathe slow, deliberate, close enough that he hears every inhale.

“Don’t move,” I whisper into his ear, my lips brushing the shell of it.

His hands tighten on his thighs. He doesn’t turn. Doesn’t glance back.

Good.

I press one palm to his chest from behind. His heart thuds beneath my fingers, steady but fast, pushing through ink and muscle. My other hand slides lower, resting over his abdomen. It’s taut, coiled, waiting for me.

He inhales sharp as my mouth grazes his jawline. Not a kiss. A promise.

“You wanted this,” I murmur, letting my breath warm his skin.

He nods once, a small jerk of his head.

“Say it.”

“I want this,” he says, voice low, rough around the edges.

I smile against his neck. “And if I said I don’t?”

His breath stumbles. “Then I’d wait. Right here.”

“Liar.”

He laughs, soft and ragged. “I’d suffer. But I’d wait.”

I step around him. Kneel between his legs, the rug soft under my knees. My fingers find the remaining buttons of his shirt. I undo them slow, one by one, dragging my fingertips across each exposed inch of skin—scarred, inked, alive.

His hand twitches toward me. I slap it away, light but firm.

“Not until I say.”

He growls low, a sound that vibrates through his chest. But he listens.

I spread his shirt wider, baring him fully. My nails trace the lines of his tattoos, following the curve of a dagger etched over his ribs, the faded burn mark near his collarbone. His skin prickles under my touch, goosebumps rising where I linger.

“You’re beautiful like this,” I say, voice steady. “Caught.”

He shifts, just a fraction, testing me. I press my hand to his chest, pushing him back.

“Stay,” I warn, eyes locked on his.

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