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I struggle to hold on to what little bit of self-control I have left even though all of me craves this man.
Sensing my reluctance, Bash traces a path along my jaw with his mouth, peppering it with sharp nips that only stoke the flames of my desire even higher.
“Bash! Someone could see us!”
“Don’t worry, no one’s going to find us. It’s after hours and everyone uses the elevator. Why do you think so many people are murdered in stairwells?”
A snort escapes me. “It’s the perfect plan to silence me once and for all.”
The Boggart chuckles, his minty breath ghosting over my face. “Nah. Why kill you when I could kiss you, instead?”
For this, I have no answer, and Bash grins triumphantly as he brushes his dark lips over mine. My chest feels like it’s cracking open when I stop him.
“We can’t do this! I’m not who you think I am! I’m…”
I trail off, tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to spill down my face. I turn my head, ashamed that I can’t corral my emotions, but every single one of them is magnified inside of me.
“Wyn, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. You got your kiss. Let me go.”
Bash lets out a feral snarl. “For the first time in ten months, I finally have you exactly where I want you—in my arms—and you want me to let you go? Not a chance. What could be so terrible about who you think you are that you have to run and hide from me?”
“Everything.”
Because I have a secret.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BASH
Every moment of every interaction with Wyn is a dance—one step forward, two steps back—but I’m not letting her twirl away from me this time.
“Wynona Archer, stop hiding. Whatever battle you’re waging isn’t against me because I don’t want to fight against you—I want to fight with you. For you. Stop shutting me out like you do everyone else. Please, let me in.”
She laughs, the sound tinged with desperation.
“You want me to “let you in”, tell you my secrets? Bash, you couldn’t handle them.”
Her nonchalant dismissal enrages me. “Try me—or are you too scared?”
“I’m petrified.”
Wyn’s admission gives me pause. I expected her to shout her denial, accuse me of insulting her character, but never agree with me.
Whatever she’s harboring inside, it’s big, and she’s scared to death of what I’ll think of her if she tells me.
“I know you’re afraid, but open up to me. I promise if you fall, I’ll catch you.”
“But what if you’re the reason I get tossed from the ledge?”
My heart constricts in my chest. “Do you have so little faith in me or think that I dislike you so? I would think after the kisses we shared, you would know…”
“Know what?”
“That I worship you—you’re the epitome of feminine grace and beauty to me.”
She cracks a smile, a real one, but it’s laced with so much sadness that I can’t savor the sight. “Feminine grace and beauty, huh? And what if I told you that I have a cock?”
