Page 200 of The Ascended
"You cannot do things like that," he nearly snarled.
"You started this." I reminded him. "Outside this very castle, where everyone could see."
"That was different." He glared at me. "What you just did... we both know where that kiss was going."
"And where is that?"
"Somewhere it can't go," he said firmly. "You're still a contestant. I'm to bemarried."
"I don't care about any of that."
"You should." His expression went deadly serious. "These are not trivial matters, Thais."
"What, are you going to turn me in to the Twelve?" I countered.
"Don’t be ridiculous." He stared down at me for a long moment.
“I’m trying to figure you out. You said you wanted to kiss me, yet you’re acting like this.”
"Because I can't have you," he said through gritted teeth. "Because every time I look at you, I want to—" He stopped mid-sentence, dragging his hand down his face. "You have no idea what you're playing with," he finally said.
"Enlighten me."
And then he was moving towards me. "You threw yourself at me like some desperate thing, and I had the sense to walk away, yet you continue to test me."
Heat flashed through me—part embarrassment, part fury at his dismissive tone. "I think you're angry because for once, you actually want something more than your precious political games."
He snapped. Before I could react, he had me backed against his desk, hands braced on either side of me, caging me in. His fingers slid across my jaw, tilting my face up to his.
"You want to know what I am?" His voice dropped to a whisper that caressed my every nerve ending. "I'm a man who's been hard for you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I'm a man who's spent every night since then stroking myself to thoughts of you."
A tremor stole my breath as fire curled low and deep.
"I'm a man who dreams about having you spread out beneath me, begging me to fill you, to claim you, to make you mine in every filthy way I can imagine." His eyes burned into mine. "So tell me—do you still think I'm hiding from what I want?"
"Then take it," I whispered, my voice barely steady. "Take what you want."
"Stop talking." But his grip tightened, and I could see the war raging behind his eyes.
"Make me," I challenged.
His hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back as he leaned down until his mouth was a breath away from mine.
"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he commanded.
"Fuck me," I whispered, the admission sending a thrill through me. "Right here."
He grabbed my thighs and yanked me up, slamming me down onto the desk as he forced his way between my legs. My hands moved without conscious thought, fingers finding the fastenings of his pants and working them open with fumbling urgency. I needed to touch him, needed to feel him, needed to drive him as mad with want as he was driving me.
The moment my fingers brushed against him, he went completely still.
His hand shot down to catch my wrist, stopping me mid-motion. "No."
"Why not?" I challenged.
"I will not touch you, and you will not touch me," he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous silk that made my skin prickle. Before I could react, he guided my hand to my thigh, sliding it upward.
"But I will watch you touch yourself," he whispered, his lips a breath away from my ear.
