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“And you want me to what…hypnotize you?” His lips curve and his dimple flickers into being.
“I don’t know…” The flush rises from my chest up my neck.
“Liar,” Dane says softly. “You know.”
“Yeah, then,” I say recklessly. “That’s what I want.”
I have this image in my head of Dane swinging a silver watch like a pendulum, saying a few words in that low, silky voice of his, and suddenly I’ll be the one with the cool, steady calm, all the holes in my brain sewed up neat and clean like the stitches in my leg.
But maybe that’s stupid. Post-orgasm magical thinking, that’s got to be it—my pussy’s still throbbing, I’m not thinking straight.
Dane isn’t rejecting the idea. He really seems to be considering it, a gleam of interest in his eye.
I ask, “Have you ever hypnotized anyone before?”
He nods. “Once.”
“Does it…work?”
“That’s up to you.”
Dane’s voice is deep and rich and already hypnotic.
I feel a tug of attraction, too much space between us. I liked it better when his hands were on my body and his breath was on my skin.
When he looks at me, when he grabs me, it’s so intense I can barely take it, but as soon as it’s gone, I want it back again.
I inch closer, like climbing onto a roller coaster—my heart starts racing, I have to force myself forward.
I step inside Dane’s circle and touch his elbow, looking up into his face.
He looks down at me, smiling. “That’s the first time you touched me first.”
I get a thrill because he’s right and he noticed. He sees everything, there’s no hiding.
His hands drop to my hips, and he pulls me close, right against him.
My hand moves up the outside of his arm. Touching him like this, like I have the right to do it, feels bold and wrong and so fucking hot. He’s too intimidating, too good-looking, too much older, and probably demented…nothing I should want or could ever pull off, but fuck, I’m salivating at the feel of his bicep…
Our stomachs press together, his arm hooking around the small of my back. His fingertips stroke my ribs.
When he touches me, when he pulls me in, I feel his strength, the press of muscle, the pumping blood. He looks so pale and cold, but that’s not what he’s like at all, not up close.
He feels so good and so wrong…
This slow touching is even more potent than the frenzy a moment before because it’s so much more intentional.
Dane’s face is close to mine. He takes my chin between his fingers and tilts it up, examining my features.
I look into his eyes, mesmerized.
With some people, the longer you look, the less you see.
With Dane, the sense of connection only grows…
His amber-colored eyes swallow me whole. His face isn’t stiff at all, not this close—it’s a shifting canvas of curiosity and amusement, of desire and even sympathy.
He lifts a finger and touches my forehead. “There’s more than one mind in here.”
