Page 6 of The Death Dealer

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “I’m not the most graceful of women.”

“Yeah, think nothing of it.”

They still had yet to release one another, and the unknown force keeping their gazes locked disturbed her on a deeper level. She shouldn’t be attracted to a Death Dealer. No good would come of it. She certainly hadn’t imagined his dismissive look earlier, either, and she was pretty sure he didn’t care for her brand of earthy woman. Tearing her gaze away from those piercing blue eyes of his, she did a sweep of his body. Why not, when it was up close and personal?

“Like what you see?” His initial shock had apparently worn off, and he was watching her the way a cat would a mouse it intended to toy with.

“I was simply wondering if you ever left the house in anything other than dress clothes.”

His mouth ticked up slightly on the left side, the only hint she’d amused him. By the time she’d blinked, his expression was once again bored. He had the nerve to glance at his watch, then say, “You have roughly twenty seconds to spit out your question. I have a schedule to keep.”

“Rude.”

“Fifteen seconds.”

“Screw you,” she snapped.

“Ten,” he replied. “And wouldn’t you like to?”

“Not in the least, you arrogant beast.”

“Mm.” He tilted up her chin and stared deep into her eyes. All signs of boredom gone. The cat had come out to play. “Shall I prove you wrong, Soleil Stephens?”

Goddess, she wanted him to, but she shook her head.

“Your loss, earth witch.” He checked his watch again. “Time’s up.”

“No! Wait. I?—”

But he was gone, and she was talking to an empty greenhouse. Disappointment and frustration ganged up and tried their best to suffocate her. She shoved them both away. Later, she’d see what Damian could tell her about Trevor Blane and why a Death Dealer might be stalking her. In the meantime, she’d do her damnedest to get her wayward desires under control.

She’d only taken two steps when she felt a foreign presence behind her. Spinning around, she raised her hands to strike. Trevor was too fast. He gripped her wrists and urged her arms out to her sides, but not in a painful way. When his rock-hard chest pressed into her breasts, Soleil did her best not to whimper at the pleasurable contact.

“I forgot something,” he said in a low, seductive voice.

“Wh-what’s that?”

“This.”

He lowered his head to hers, pausing only long enough for her to protest if she intended to—she had absolutely no intention of objecting—and then he possessed her mouth like a fucking pirate of old. Soleil tugged at her wrists, trying to free her hands so she could touch him. But he held her captive as his talented tongue repeatedly delved into her mouth, wringing little mews of pleasure from her.

When he pulled away, unmistakable satisfaction was reflected in his gleaming eyes and a gloating smile she desperately wanted to smack off his face.

“I think that proves all we need to know,” he said with a mocking laugh.

For some strange reason, he hadn’t released her or shied away from the contact with her body. As if he’d just realized the same thing himself, he dropped her arms and stepped back.

“See you around, earth witch.”

“Not if I see you first,” she retorted, angry at herself for wanting a man who was clearly a jerk.

He placed a palm over his heart and sighed dramatically. “I’m wounded.”

Temper stirring, Soleil balled her hands into tight fists. She hated to be mocked, and it appeared all Trevors were punkasses. And because she’d never been great at comebacks, she silently stewed in the face of his amusement.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and he shook his head slightly, as if bemused. “Who the hell knew you kissed like that?” he murmured, almost to himself.

“So maybe you’re the one who would like to screwme,” she taunted with her hands on her hips.

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