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His last line leaves him on a plea, almost as if he not only needs, but is secretly desperate for me to be ‘worthy’ of…whatever this is.
It shouldn’t appeal to me.
I should knee him in the nuts for insinuating I’m not.
But he wants me to be.
Even if he didn’t mean for me to sense it, I did. I do.
Knight hates me, but he’s not one hundred percent sure he wants to anymore.
Why does that make my insides burn for him?
I know it’s not what he means by the words, but I’m overcome with using them the way I want right now.
“Let me show you how worthy I can be.” I reach inside his suit jacket, gripping the latch of his belt.
Knight isn’t patient. He doesn’t wait, but understands, his palms falling on my shoulders and urging me to my knees. He snatches my chin once again. Pretty sure I’m going to have bruises on my body from him one of these days. “So show me. Suck my cock like my good little slut would.”
I whack his hands away but before I realize it, he hooks his arm around my waist and spins me so fast that I crash against the shelf behind me. “Try again.”
“Even if you were the last person on Earth…” I challenge, even though I know deep down it’s not true. It falls from my tongue effortlessly. Like a well-seasoned lie that I had recited all my life.
My eyes fall to the curve of his mouth. “Done.” He pulls me into his body and before I can catch my breath, colors melt around me and explosions of dust fall from above. My stomach flips upside down as he shoves me out of the archway and the portal snaps shut behind us.
I shiver, rubbing my hands over my upper arms as ice touches my feet. The lights are dim, but it’s obvious where we are. “Why’d you bring me to the rink?” I turn to face him, searching the shadows that have fallen over his face. The way his cheeks sink in slightly only eventuate the hard edges of his chiseled jaw.
“You said even if I was the last person on Earth…” he stretches his arms out wide, almost matching his smirk. “Have at it, girl…”
I pause, ignoring the fact that ice is melting beneath the soles of my feet.
I take another step closer to him, reaching up to touch the side of his cheek. For so long, it has been a constant back and forth with him, and maybe I liked it. No—I definitely liked it. I can’t imagine anything else ever being enough for me now that I’ve felt the fire of Knight’s wrath run circles over my inner thighs. What if it was just us?
For right now. For just this second, or hour, it is. Is this why he swept me away from everything else?
I am a fool.
I snatch my hands back before I can allow myself the possibility to explore whatever it is that he’s implying, but I’m not fast enough because my hand is wrapped in his just as quickly, as he shoves me closer against his chest. “Do whatever you want to me, Little London.” I hold my breath at his words, desperate for them to not feel so good. I hate that I can’t fight him, and any time I do it only makes it taste that much sweeter once he has me under his thumb.
He places his finger beneath my chin, tilting my face up until my eyes meet his. I feel my stomach implode when our eyes collide, and I’d give anything. Anything at all to allow myself to be lost in this moment forever. With him. Nothing else and with no outside noise. “Anything.”
I chew on my bottom lip. I’d never had an issue being confident amongst men—and women—alike. I’d walk into any room and fucking own it, because everything is yours if you believe it is. This is different. With him, it’s always so fucking different.
Stubbornly, I don’t allow him to see beneath my veil of lies. My hand comes to his bare chest as I trace each muscle, right down to the line that curves the middle of his abs. My skin burns hotter as time goes on, and any time I think I’m going to run, I’m reminded why I don’t want to.
I stop above his belt buckle and think over my options.
One, I could just do as he says and take whatever I want from him. Get him out of my system and fuck him until I’m done with him.
Or two, I could stop this whole thing and tell him to take me home. Whether he listens or not is another story, but I could demand it. But then what? Then I just obsess over this moment—over him—even more than I already do?
