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I ran my hand over a material, feeling the velvet-like soft plush fabric. My palm ran up the back—a sofa.
“Keep yourself seated for five minutes and then take your blindfold off. Do not leave the building. I will ensure your knights will be here within an hour.”
“You’re leaving me?”
“I cannot get you rescued unless I leave,” he said. The sound of the wooden floor bounced underneath the heaviness of each of his steps.
“Stop,” I called. The footsteps stopped. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you the dark king.”
“You want to call me by my name?”
Did I?
“Yes.” Though I knew Clay was going to kill me once he found out.
“Deven,” he said.
I laughed lightly. “Half-way between heaven and the devil,” I said. “Which is closer?”
“One is no better than the other,” he said cryptically.
“Can I see you?” I asked. “I mean, can I take off the blindfold?”
“Please, don’t do that. You aren’t ready.”
“Will you shock me?” I asked, though I didn’t believe I would be.
“Yes,” he whispered. I heard no footsteps, but his warmth was near again.
“Liar,” I whispered.
Before my next heartbeat, his warm breath was palpable against my skin, delicate lips to my cheek. He was about to say something else.
I raised my hands and reached for him, touching his skin. He didn’t flinch as my fingers touched his face. Running my thumb over his cheek, around his eye socket and along to his sharp jawline. I glided my fingertips across his cheeks and traced his lips, imagining them against mine.
He took in a light breath.
Running my hand down to his chin and then further to his wide chest. Realising I had forgotten his hair, I rushed my hands up and into his hair. Pulling him to me.
“Lacey,” he growled as I inhaled, smelling the whiskey that coated his breath.
“Were you drinking and flying?” I asked with a grin.
He burst out laughing. It was deep and manly and took my breath away. He had a light side to him and I gasped at the connection and at the way my fingers sizzled at the touch of his skin.
“Kiss me,” I demanded. “Let me say thank you.”
“You’ve just said it.”
“Kiss me because you want to...” I said and hesitated. “... Or because I want to.”
His lips landed on mine with a surprising tenderness, tasting the whiskey first hand. I ran my tongue across the seam of his lips. He groaned but didn’t rush me or take over.
Not at first—he let me explore him and I did as I traced the outline of his lips with my tongue, then sucked in his bottom lip. I wanted more of his taste.
And that’s when the kiss became more torrid. His hand curled in my hair, and he pulled me closer to him. The slide of his tongue in my mouth and I joined him, as we left no space between us as we devoured each other faces.
I gasped when he ran his hand under my arse, pulling me up off the sofa, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. My fingers dug into his shoulders, which were hard, perhaps tense. I didn’t know if it was my inelegant body, from feeling off-balance with the blindfold on or his desire that made his neck cord when I ran my fingers over it but whatever it was he was not in as control as he would typically seem to be.
