“Oh, I think I do more than tempt you.” The words slipped out, sharp and smooth, but they hit something raw in the air between us.
His eyes narrowed, the blue burning hotter than before.
I took a step closer. He didn’t move back. The space between us felt charged, a taut wire pulled to its breaking point.
“Why didn’t you finish me off, Asher?” I asked, voice softening, sinking into something more dangerous. “You had your chance.”
His fingers clenched around the knife hilt. “Maybe I didn’t want to kill you in your sleep.”
“A noble excuse,” I murmured. “But I think you’re lying.”
I closed the distance between us, each step slow, deliberate. He was breathing harder now, his chest rising and falling.
His scent, sweat, leather, and something undeniably him, curled into my lungs, intoxicating and infuriating.
I leaned in, my voice a whisper against his ear. “You were watching me, weren’t you?”
His jaw worked, his teeth grinding together. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late.”
I pulled back just enough to see his eyes.
The anger was still there, but beneath it, something else smoldered. Something that matched the fire in my own veins.
This is stupid. Dangerous.
But neither of us stepped away.
My gaze dipped to his mouth. Full lips, pulled into a tight, defiant line. The kind of mouth that begged to be kissed, bitten, ruined.
And then his hand shot out, grabbing my shirt, pulling me closer.
The shock of contact sent a jolt through me, white-hot and reckless.
“If I kiss you,” he muttered, breath ragged, “it doesn’t change anything.”
My smile curled, predatory. “Then don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
His mouth crashed into mine, all teeth and heat and fury. I met him head-on, the force of it sparking through every nerve.
His fingers twisted in my shirt, pulling me closer, as if he wanted to consume me.
My hands found his waist, slid up his back, feeling the tension coiled there, ready to snap.
The kiss was brutal, a clash of wills, but under the violence, the heat simmered, threatening to boil over.
His lips softened, just for a second, and a low sound escaped me, betraying more than I wanted it to.
I hated him.
I wanted him.
When we finally pulled apart, Asher was breathing hard, our foreheads still touching.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” he whispered, but his grip on me didn’t loosen.
