Page 82 of Tide of Treason
His crotch.
23 | Kayla
30 years old
Present day
By now, Ihad Lucius caged in the bathroom, back pressed against cold tile and my hand fumbling blindly for the lock behind us. Theclickwas loud. Louder than my heart, which, for all its legendary coldness, apparently still remembered how to stutter. My gaze clashed with his—bold, unplanned. I hadn’t thought this far ahead. Because trapping myself in a room with this man? It was combustible. A risk to body, mind, and maybe my very soul.
He slid a hand over his jaw, gripped the sink behind him as though physically restraining himself. Licking his bottom lip, he flicked a glance at the lock behind my head.
“You gonna let me out, or is this a hostage situation?”
If he wanted to, he could walk right through me. I wasn’tso delusional I’d forgotten what those hands could do. Though there was something intoxicating about pretending I could hold him, if only for a moment.
Silence dragged.
A slow drip of tension that thickened the air until my lungs hurt.
Until the space between our bodies grew heavier.
Until he was close enough to touch.
“I think I’ll keep you,” I finally whispered.
He looked at me like he’d heard that before in a hundred darker dreams. Electricity rolled off him, poured into my own veins.
He grabbed my nape, threaded his fingers into my hair, and then buried his face in the juncture of my shoulder and throat. A low, guttural sound vibrated against my skin; so masculine, so thoroughlyhimI felt it in my bones first, then lower, where all rational thought went to die. My arms circled broad shoulders, pulling him tighter to feed the greedy ache that lived beneath my skin.
Catching my waist, Lucius ran a large hand down my back and whipped his belt from the loops of his slacks. The leather snapped through the air, a vicious little whip crack, and landed square on my ass. Hard. Pain melted instantly into a throbbing heat, and my teeth sank into his shoulder to stifle the moan.
“Distracting as fuck,” he muttered roughly against my pulse, nipping the sensitive skin before he spun me around. His voice spilled against my ear, thick with threats and promises sofilthy my heart stumbled and skinned its knees on every sinful word. My palms flattened onto the pristine marble, hips pressing back instinctively as our gazes locked in the mirror’s unforgiving glare.
“You didn’t say please,” I challenged softly.
The comeback earned me a palm between the shoulder blades. A firm press. My spine curved under his weight, cleavage mashed against the cold marble. His hand slid lower, jiggling my backside with a crude, possessive intensity that rattled me down to my perfectly painted toenails.
Glaring at Lucius in the mirror, my reflection threw back a look that implied he’d crossed a line pawing me like I was some two-bit stripper he could rent by the hour. Except my body was a backstabbing slut, melting under his grip. He parted my thighs with a knee, dragging his thumb through the slick proof of my treachery.
“You didn’t say please,” I repeated stubbornly.
“Don’t need to say shit.” His voice was so low it rumbled. Lucius hiked my dress around my waist. “We both know you want this as much as I do.”
“Arrogant,” I bit back, irritation faked and thinly veiled lust painfully genuine.
“Correct.”
A single hook of his finger caught the scrap I called underwear. One tug and it was gone. He dangled the torn lace in front of my eyes, then shoved it between his teeth.
“You aren’t actually—”
“Tastes like you’ve been craving this all day,principessa.”
My thighs squeezed together involuntarily, the nickname sinking hot between my legs.
He spat the remains onto the counter, then yanked his slacks open with a sharp flick of his wrist and pulled himself free. Thick and dark, glistening at the tip, the head flushed an angry shade of red. My uterus never stood a chance. I actually had to blink, take a second, mentally assess the sheer, raw stupidity of my past choices because I was seeing the consequences in real time.
A quiet, shocked laugh escaped my lips.
