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I’m horrified at the effect he has on me. How his fingers wrap around my arm and the scent of him so close makes my knees weak.
He tugs me closer, our bodies colliding, and a helpless little gasp breaks free. I’m high on the darkness in his eyes, on how his grip is tight, and he won’t let go.
“Still have my mark on your breast?” he breathes, his face ever so close now.
“Still have scratches on your back?” I counter.
“I took a picture of them,” he says, voice low. “To remind myself of a debt that needs to be paid. No one marks me without paying the price.”
I frown. “We’re even. Do you want me to show ya what you did to me?”
His hand comes to my throat so fast my next breath stalls, and before I react, he tilts my head and walks me backward with a calmness that makes resisting him impossible.
“What are ya doing?” I hiss, grabbing his wrist as my back hits a wall of mirrors.
“Educating you.”
“I’d rather throw myself through a window.”
“You say that now.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, and I hate his cheek dimples almost as much as I hate the way my body remembers his touch.
“Let go of me, Fionn.”
“Not until you’ve paid attention.”
“To what?”
His thumb skims beneath my jaw, steering my face back when I try to turn away, and his hand tighter around my wrist.
“The lesson.”
“She’s gonna come out here any second.”
His gaze stays on mine while his mouth lowers. “Stop talking.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“You wanted to know if I’d kiss her properly.”
“I don’t care now.”
“Liar.”
“You’re a prick.”
“And you’re a brat.”
His cheek dimples, and the next few words brush the corner of my mouth. “I could kiss her like this...”
I drag in a breath because this is the part where I should scream, but his hand is warm against my throat, his chest a solid wall of muscle in front of mine.
His lips brush over mine, clinging ever so slightly.
It is barely a kiss, controlled and smug and designed to make me furious, and it works because every part of me ignites.
I bite his lower lip and for a racing heartbeat, his body goes rigid.
