Page 19 of Handsome Devil
“Acceptable,” he clipped out.
“I’m afraid I won’t bud—really?” My knees buckled. I didn’t know if I was relieved or terrified. “O-okay then.”
“Now, there’s only one matter left.” The feral spark returned to Tate’s gunmetal pupils. “You need to prove that you can touch me without recoiling.”
My mouth parched. “How is this important exactly?”
“Well, you’ve given yourself unlimited time to warm up to the idea of touching me. It is vital we establish you are capable of it at all.” A diabolic sneer found his mouth. “As it happens, I am right here, within reach.”
Panic slashed through my spine.
He wanted me to touch him.Now.
My formidable, decadent boss.
The man I’d seen blackmail and annihilate people for sport.
I refused to recoil.
“Where?” I asked evenly.
He shrugged. “Anywhere. Everywhere.” His voice, low and husky, licked at my skin like a smothered flame. “Surprise me.”
“Close your eyes,” I ordered.
“Why?” His eyes narrowed.
“Marriage is built on trust, isn’t it?” I blinked innocently. “We need to start somewhere.”
Shockingly, he let his eyelids flutter shut.
I lifted my hand toward his face, teetering on the fine line between panic and exhilaration. I had a feeling that even though his eyes were closed, not only could he see me, but he could also see through my clothes and thoughts and feelings.
I let my fingers guide me. Tell me which part of him they wanted to explore.
My fingertips fluttered less than an inch from his face, searching, contemplating, deciding…
I pressed two fingers to his mouth, surprised to feel it hot and soft against my fingers.Human.
I sucked in a surprised breath.
He always looked so cold. Like he was carved out of stone, engraved by the sharpest scalpels. The tips of my fingernails scraped his lips apart.
My head was swimming. I thought I felt the hot edge of his tongue pressing against my skin for a taste, but I couldn’t be sure.
What I was certain of was the terrible, desperate ache that built inside me. It felt like someone cracked an egg in me, and its content, yolky, thick, and warm, pooled between my legs.
And in that moment, I knew why Tate had not balked at my condition about taking my time consummating our marriage.
He knew.
Knew one touch would reveal my entire hand.
Every single card in it.
That I was attracted to him. That his darkness always appealed to me. That it mirrored a side of me no one was privy to.
Tate’s eyes snapped open, his gaze meeting mine. There was satisfaction there. Hunger too. The starvation of a man beaten, damaged, and wrecked but not broken.
