She nodded. “I feel the same way.”
His heart tried to soar but reality kept plucking its flight feathers. “Does it even make a difference? You’re an angel, I’m a demon. We were doomed before we even began.”
“I don’t think I care anymore,” she whispered, taking a step closer to him.
He took one too. He was still in his half demon form, and he had to drop his head to meet her eyes while she craned her head back, but he didn’t think about shifting.
For once, he wanted to shed the human disguise he’d become so accustomed to wearing. He hadn’t lied—he trusted her. And part of that was wanting her to see him, therealhim. Claws, scales, ugly past, crippled emotions, and all.
As if she read his thoughts, she lifted a palm and placed it on his chest. Her hand was so damn soft.
“I thought you had the book but stayed anyway,” he admitted. “I thought that meant you wanted—”
“I may have lied about having it, but I didn’t lie about my reasons for staying.”
He searched her gaze.
“The contract is broken, Raum. I have no book, no leverage, and no desire to use it even if I did. There’s nothing keeping me here anymore.” She ducked her head and glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “Nothing except you.”
“I should’ve asked why you stayed earlier, but I didn’t want to fucking jinx it. I couldn’t believe my luck.”
She smiled, fingernails curling against his scaled skin. “Then I’ll tell you now. I stayed because I wanted to spend a hundred days waking up in bed like we did. I wanted to do human stuff like buy vegetables from a market and look in thrift stores. I wanted to walk Luna and your hellhound in the park where we met. I wanted to hold your hand when other people were around and have them think we were a normal couple. I wanted—” She swallowed. “I wanted to feel free. I just didn’t want to be alone anymore.”
“Sunshine…”
A tear formed at the corner of her eye, but before it could escape, she dashed it away.
“We can do all that stuff,” he said. He’d give her any damn thing she wanted when she looked at him like that.
He stroked her cheek, trailing his claws and fingertips along her proud bone structure. Her skin was so soft, it made him feel like he was touching glass. He wanted to treat her like she was made of it.
He also wanted to grab her by the throat and throw her down on the bed. He wanted to own every inch of her. The dichotomy was infuriating. Intoxicating.
She swayed into him like she sensed his thoughts. Their bodies were so close they nearly pressed together from head to toe, but it still wasn’t close enough.
“I know this should feel wrong,” she whispered, “but it doesn’t.”
He gave into his urge and wrapped his palm around her throat. In this form, his hand was so big, his fingers nearly touched on the other side. He wanted to push her, to test her to see if she would recoil from him. From who he was,whathe was—especially when he looked like this.
She relaxed into his hold instead, surrendering control. His blood heated.
“It’s the kind of wrong that feels right.” His voice had deepened.
She murmured her assent, unable to nod.
“I want you,” he said. “More than I think I’ve wanted anything.”
“Me too.” Her other hand landed on his chest beside the first.
“I want to do things to you…”
She swallowed, and he felt it against his palm.
“Bad things. Things that should scare you.”
“What things?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “You shouldn’t even let me touch you.”
