His eyes ignite, making me wonder if he saw my thoughts weave through the fabric of my soul.
I take a step back, slipping from his loosening grasp.
Another.
A tautness stretches between us, like perhaps he thinks I’m about to run from this.
Fromus.
My heart labors as I forge another backward step, swaying my hips a little.
Realization widens his eyes before they darken to a beautiful, devastating shade of oblivion. A deep rumble rattles the air but stays trapped inside his chest as his shoulders seem to swell, muscles expanding.
One glance at the bulge in his pants almost has me on my knees, and I realize he understands.
That hesees.
I’m not runningfromhim … I’m runningforhim.
“Milaje,” he says, his voice a dusky roll that makes me feel both full and soachinglyhollow.
I swallow.
Another backward step.
“Rhordyn …”
“You don’t understand the game you’re playing.”
A small smile hooks the corner of my mouth. “Teach me the rules?”
The tendons in his neck stretch as he draws his chest full of breath, then blows it out slowly. “If you run, I will chase.”
His fists tighten, like he’s picturing his hands snatching at my fleeing form, and a bolt of thrill thrums through my veins.
“I will catch you.”
A shuddered inhale.
“Take you.”
A wanting whimper.
“And there will be no turning back.”
Another stolen step.
Another.
His upper lip peels back. “No more recklessfucks.”
The words are a shake of my soul. A question.
A seeking of confirmation.
I swallow thickly.
Cheeks heating, I take another backward step.
