Page 129 of Forbidden Empire
“I’m joking, sweetheart,” he replied, that sexy rumble sending a jolt straight between my legs. “You proved you know how to kick ass when necessary. I believe that now. I’m a little scared of you, if I’m being honest.”
“Oh?” I shot back.
“Please don’t tell anyone else I said that,” he murmured, almost pleading.
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
“That’s ominous.” He arched one eyebrow. “You know I deal in secrets for a living.”
“Guess the tables are turned now, aren’t they?” I threw back at him, feeling the thrill of the game all over again.
“Fuck, I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” He shook his head, eyes narrowing as if he was concerned.
“Only if you try to double-cross me,” I warned.
“How about we just work as a team and not threaten to betray each other?”
There was a smile on his lips, but underneath, I heard the seriousness threading every syllable.
Was that a real question? Was he asking for more, something deeper? The unspoken hovered, thick and heavy.
I could have kept it going. Played coy, teased him, fired back another clever line. That was what we always did, the back and forth, the chase and retreat. But suddenly, it felt empty. I was tired of the games.
I wanted what came next, the part where you could finally let someone in, let yourself trust, let yourself hope.
So I kissed him again, this time pouring everything into it.
The hunger, the relief, the silent promise. Words could simmer. We had time to say all the things that mattered.
Right now, all we needed to know was that whatever came next, we’d face it together.
He pulled away just enough to look down at me, his warm lips barely parted, eyes soft and full of something close to devotion.
“Aren’t you going to say it?” he asked.
“Say what?”
“That you’re never going to betray me again?”
“Oh, that?” I shrugged, giving a wicked little grin. “I mean, never say never, right?”
“Esme!” He feigned outrage before he scooped me up in his arms, carrying me over to the battered brown leather sofa in the corner of his office. He lay me down, looming over me, his body pressing between my thighs, his face just inches from mine.
He kissed me, hard and fast.
“You think you’re funny,” he rasped, the sound vibrating against my mouth. “But it matters to me. I need you to know that.”
“I’m pretty sure your head’s pressing against my?—”
“Can’t you be serious for one fucking moment, Esme?”
“I’m listening. Sorry.”
He shook his head, and the frustration in his eyes was almost affectionate. No one else got under his skin like I did, and we both knew it.
He cupped my cheek, fingers gentle, gaze searching mine, like he could anchor himself in me.
“We built this together,” he said. “You and me.”
