“But I…” Her forehead crinkles. “I do.”
I arch a brow. “You don’t sound very sure about that.”
“Because I shouldn’t trust you.”
“True,” I agree again. “Except you should trust me.” I bump my nose against hers, my lips whispering across hers. “Because I’ll never hurt you, Ailsa. Unless it’s for pleasure. Then all bets are off.”
She swallows. “What does that even mean?”
“Want me to show you?” I ask softly, my voice as smooth as silk. There are a dozen ways I could demonstrate my words. All of them would be introductions. My version ofslow.
“Okay,” she says. “Show me.”
I smile against her mouth. “You’re so fucking good for me, gorgeous.” I bring the card up to her throat and let her feel the razor age along her tender skin.
She freezes.
Which makes me grin even more. “Try not to move.” Because I don’t want to cut her yet. Just… tease.
Ailsa seems to stop breathing as I draw the blade lower, snagging on her sweater.
She’s not wearing a bra, something I know because she never grabbed one in the closet.
Ripping the card downward, I slice through the fabric like butter, exposing her tits.
She gasps, her breath an alluring pant against my mouth.
I don’t give her a chance to vocalize a response, my tongue eager to dance with hers. She’s still frozen, yet her lips move with mine.
Because she’s fucking phenomenal.
A natural to my unnatural.
I nip her bottom lip, my card going to her jeans. She stops breathing again as she feels the blade touch her hip.
Then I jerk it downward, easily slicing through the side of her pants down to the middle of her thigh.
“I… I could just remove them,” she whispers.
“No, Ailsa,” I reply, my forehead meeting hers. “Because your job is to take off my pants while I finish freeing you from yours.” I utter that last line while switching the card to my opposite side and creating another gash down her jeans.
She shudders, her gaze hooded as she stares up at me. “You’re insane.”
“Yes.”
A hint of boldness enters her features, one that has my knot throbbing with eagerness.
Because yes fucking please.
I like that glimmer in her eyes.
“I want to be insane, too,” she tells me. “I want to be insane with you.”
My lips curl. “It’s a date, gorgeous.” I kiss her again, loving that she’s giving in to the madness. The impulses. Her instincts.
Is it fast? Maybe for someone wanting to indulge in the ordinary.
But there’s nothingordinaryabout Ailsa Marvel.
