Page 83 of Sorrow & Strangers

I glare at him as he settles back in bed. “We could have done separate rooms,” I snap out.

He ignores me and picks up his book again.

“Asshole,” I grumble, and roll onto my side, giving him my back.

He growls, and the sound sends a thrill through my body. My ass faintly stings, my body remembering what happened the last time he called me a brat.

I growl back, testing the boundary. Do I want him to spank me? Absolutely fucking not. But then why is my core throbbing at the thought?

He slams the book closed, and I feel him shift behind me. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulls me close, his heat enveloping me. My back presses against his solid chest, my ass nestled against his groin.

“What are you doing?” I ask, starting to struggle, but the more I move, the harder he grows against my ass.

“Putting my scent on you, clearly,” he growls, this time against my ear.

Unable to ignore the feeling of his growing cock against me, I try again to get him to release me, pushing at his arms, but being careful not to rub against him. “I don’t want your fucking scent on me, asshole.”

“It’s for the act,” he says, tightening his arms.

“No one is coming tonight,” I growl, swatting at his thigh when he presses it behind mine.

He returns my growl with one of his own, rubbing his face into my neck. “And you think they won’t know if we have not spent the night enjoying each other?”

I pause for a moment. I have read about demons’ heightened senses, and while I hate to admit it, he’s right. We’ve settled on this guise for whatever reason, and since we’ve committed to it, I will need to have his scent on me. But not like this. I shove him away, managing to struggle out of his hold, but I know it is only because he allowed it.

“Fine, but I’ll do it. Don’t touch me.” If I’m in control, this will be easier.

“Okay,” he says, releasing me fully and lying on his back. I roll my eyes, able to hear the male smugness in his voice.

I turn to face him and shift to my knees, my cheeks heating as I look over his chest and abs.

“See something you like, little fae?” he asks, the smirk woven into his words.

“Shut up.” I take a breath and reach my arm out over him, barely brushing the skin of my forearm against his chest.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asks dryly, and I glance at him just as he rolls his eyes.

The flush of lust morphs easily into anger. “Rubbed some asshole’s scent all over me? Strangely enough, no.”

He grabs my wrist and brushes his thumb over my fluttering pulse. “It has to be your pulse points and face,” he says, more gently than I was expecting.

“Like this,” he says. He guides my arm to his throat and brushes my wrist against it. His stubble scratches against the delicate skin of my inner arm as he drags it along his jaw and cheek to his lips, pressing a soft kiss directly over my pulse.

I watch him, transfixed and barely breathing. He presses his lips to my thrumming pulse again, his eyes meeting mine as his tongue darts out, tasting me. Slowly, and never breaking contact, he brushes my wrist along the other side of his jaw, tracing the strong line of his neck. As he slides it over his collar­bone and across the heavy muscle of his chest, nearing his heart, I yank my hand back.

“That’ll do it.”

“Your turn,” he says and shifts to lean on one elbow, holding out his other arm toward me.

Hardening my gaze, I grab his hand and roughly rub his wrist against my throat. I’m about to shove it away when I feel how his own heart is racing. Something in me softens, and instead of dropping his hand, I tilt my head, moving him along my collarbone and then to the other side of my throat, where my pulse is hammering as hard as his. My movements are slower, ­gentler, and I hold his gaze. I angle his hand and tip my head, watching him as I nuzzle my cheek against his palm. His eyes are completely black, and his parted lips look so pillowy soft. He brushes his thumb along my jaw, and my breath hitches.

Fuck, this is dangerous.

I drop his arm and flinch back as if he’s scorched me.

The stranger collapses back onto the bed, exhaling heavily, and I sit there for a few moments, staring at the wall before I climb out of bed. I grab my pillow and turn off the light before lying down on the floor. A swirl of blue magic wraps around me, and I am lifted back onto the bed, unceremoniously deposited there.

Anger surges within me again. “What the fuck do you want from me?”