Page 35 of Antihero
How could he know that? I hesitate. Too long, and he’ll know without me saying anything. “No…” My word cuts off in a gasp as his mouth, so fast, locks onto me again, lower this time, where my neck meets my shoulder. My hands brace against his chest, pushing back to no avail. He only releases when he’s ready. When my pulse is racing, the pain and mingled pleasure having quickened my breath.
“Lie,” he states, with no room for argument. Then, in the voice I’m fast becoming used to, so soft this time it’s almost gentle, he speaks, “You really didn’t know who I was at the start.” A pause, and somehow softer still, the question, “You just liked me.”
My lips part. “True.” Even in the dark, I feel his eyes on me, feel that I’m meeting his.
“You lost a sister, too.”
At that, I blink. If not for the dark, I might have tried to lie, but it’s easier to speak these things when you think no one can see. “True.” My voice is weak, a whisper. I don’t know how he knows these things, but he does.
“You don’t regret drugging me.” I feel the air change, the tone of his voice no longer soft, some of his anger seeping back into it. He didn’t take that well, then.
I bite my lip as his hand lifts off the tiles to trace the soft skin on the back of my arm, sliding up over the curve of my shoulder where the strap of my bathing suit ties in a little bow. His finger slides under it, tugging towards the corner of my shoulder, though not off entirely. The effect of his touch tingles across my chest, my nipples tightening against the taut fabric.
“True,” I say in a near-whisper.
“You still intend to kill more.” With his words, he tugs the strap, the knot falling open and that side of my suit folding down, exposing the swell of my breast above my nipple.
My chest rises and falls that bit faster. Even as I know he knows the true answer, I say, “False,” and brace for the sudden pain.
This time though, Tristan lets the anticipation linger, drifting close, lips grazing the other two bruises he’s left as he traces lower, lower, to the new line of my bathing suit. He nips the skin first, and my breath catches, senses primed and tense. Then his tongue slides over the soft skin, sucking it against his lips. A small noise escapes me before he lets go.
I’m still panting as he once again puts space between us.
“Who’s next? Harry?”
“Bastard,” I bite back instead.
Tristan closes the distance again, fast, and I brace, but he only lets his lips brush light across mine. I can see the glint of one eye. “Harry is next. You will try again?” he asks.
I shove back against his chest, snapping, “True.”
“It doesn’t matter what I threaten you with, you won’t tell me why.”
“True,” I answer that fast, venomously.
I can almosthearhim grin. “You’re wet.”
“I’m in a pool.”
“Don’t get cute now, Cutthroat. We’re not done.”
My jaw tightens. “True.”
His other hand finds the second strap, tugging it loose, and this time he tugs the front down sharply, so that it folds under my breast, the waterline even with my hardened nipple. Well, that’s until his hands on my hips lift me, bringing me another two inches out of the water. His mouth is now suggestively close, leaving no question of where he’ll bite next. I wish the thought didn’t make me want to squirm, didn’t make mewantto lie.
It turns out, I needn’t have worried about the conundrum of whether I want to lie, since Tristan makes the rules in this game, and he can be as unfair as he likes. “Cats or dogs?”
I blink. “That’s not a true or false question.”
“Mm. But I’m still waiting for an answer.”
Asshole.
“Dogs,” I grate out.
That half-huff of a laugh, rasping in his altered voice.
“Not a lie,” I point out.
