Page 73 of A Match Made in Hell
‘Because your breath hitches when I enter a room.’ He prowls towards me. A lion circling prey. ‘Because your legs clench when I get too close.’
I can’t bring myself to be irritated he’s noticed, because I’m too busy doing just that. Liquid heat curls in my stomach. Lower. Sath cocks his head, appraising me. Now we’re in here, he’s taken on his other persona, the Sath everyone expects him to be.
The Devil.
I can see the real him underneath. His hand shakes when he slides it into his pocket. There’s a gentleness behind the gold flare in his eyes. His smirk isn’t wide enough to be genuine. I should know – fake smiles are a speciality of mine.
All these pretences make up pieces of who he is, and it only makes me like him more.
I try again to defuse the tension. ‘And how many have come before me?’ I ask, knowing there’s a strong chance I’ll loathe the answer. ‘How many failed this task?’
‘Some passed. Some failed.’
My stomach twists. Some failed. I knew they would have, but the thought of someone being in this space, of being on that bed before me . . . I can’t look at him. I’ve no right to be jealous; I’ve no claim to him, then or now. He’s not mine. I’m not his.
We’re friends. Comrades in task-taking. But my back is against the dresser now, one of the drawer knobs pressing into my spine, and I barely notice the discomfort. Ilikethe discomfort. Anything to distract me from the other things I’m feeling. Like the desire to gouge out the eyes of anyone who’s ever touched him.Not mine, not mine, not mine. I repeat the mantra as he comes closer, within touching distance now, bracing both arms on either side of me, caging me in.
I refuse to be one in a long line. Iwillpass this.
‘We should establish the rules for tonight,’ he says.
Right. The rules. Because this is a task. A game. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m doing this to leave; he’s doing this for his precious concession. But when our eyes meet, my breath hitches. There’s something burning in his gaze that’s hotter than the usual flames, and it makes me think this temptation isn’t all for show.
Which makes it all the more dangerous for us both.
He’s closer than ever, his scent of mint and rain overpoweringme, hard muscle on his chest pressing against mine, and then he’s leaning down, fingers on my chin as his breath ghosts my mouth. I fist his shirt. His top lip grazes mine. My stomach jolts, and I gasp, because it’s happening, it’s finally happening; my heart is thundering and he’s soft and warm and everything I want and –
Sath stops, and sighs. ‘I haven’t yet told you the rules.’
If kissing is against them, I don’t care. Can’t he see I don’t care? Bad Decision Willow has taken over me the same way his powers sometimes take over him.
I grip his shirt tighter, wishing I had the strength to tear through it. ‘Who needs rules? I thought you were supposed to be making me fail.’ Clearly, I should’ve worn something more low-cut. Maybe then he wouldn’t be neglecting to kiss me.
He offers me a rueful smile. ‘I’m allowed some restraint.’
Retreating, he unbuttons his shirt sleeves and rolls them to his elbows. This only makes my chest heave more. I had no idea I was into forearms. Apparently, when it comes to Sath, I’m into everything. I cannot fathom why he’s decided to cross the room.
‘The rules,’ he says, voice taking on a tone of command. ‘The task will last one hour. There will be . . . touching.’
I’m going to need him to stop talking, because this is conjuring up all kinds of images. Every part of me is liquid. My fingers grip the edge of the dresser in a desperate attempt to remain upright. At least now he’s on the other side of the room, it’s marginally easier to think. Maybe I can do this after all. At least it sounds like some touching might be involved without failure.
I really want there to be touching.
‘If you ask me to fuck you, I will,’ he goes on, because apparently he hasn’t noticed I’m about to combust, ‘and the moment I do, you’ll fail.’
‘Right,’ I squeak. ‘Well, that sounds easy enough. No askingfor . . . that. Super. Fine.’
It’s only an hour. An hour’s nothing. That’s less than a Scrabble session, and I’ve survived plenty of those without jumping his bones.
Shadows of flame coil down his arms. ‘I won’t be able to stay on this side of the room all night.’
The threat has my toes curling.
Well, if we’re going to play, let’s play. It’s a dangerous game, knowing how easy it would be to fail, but if he’s going to torture me the least I can do is return the favour. I toss my hair over my shoulder, exposing my neck, my bare collarbone. I slide one strap down my shoulder, Sath’s eyes following the movement.
‘Come here, then,’ I say.
I’ve lost the moment he’s in front of me again. In one swift movement, he lifts me on to the dresser, my legs spreading apart to allow him to step between them. His left hand wraps around my waist, his right coming to rest on my shoulder, one finger tangling in the strap I’d just been playing with. He bends his head to press kisses beneath my ear, down my neck, the fingers on my waist digging tighter and tighter into my skin with every kiss.
