Page 36 of The Hellkeeper

"You don’t get to hide from me, Amelia," I mumble around a mouthful of her skin. "Not your body. Not your pleasure. Not the way you tremble when I touch you."

"Oh Damien," she wails.

"Mine," I growl. I press one last open-mouthed kiss to the base of her neck before finally pulling the zipper up.

She sways on her feet, the pleasure I wrung from her still thick in her veins. It clouds her mind. I kneel to slip her sneakers off, massaging her small feet. She nearly moans, but bites her tongue to stop it. I peel her socks off next, my lips brushing against both of her ankles before I slide the heels onto her feet.

She shivers, and I smile.

I rise, watching her take her first cautious step. She wobbles. My hands are on her instantly, steadying her.

“Perhaps heels weren’t the wisest choice,” I say.

“You bought them.”

“Yes.” My fingers flex on her waist. “Because I enjoy pushing you out of your comfort zone.”

She gasps. “You’re—”

I scoop her up before she can finish whatever insult she was about to hurl my way.

Her arms fly around my neck. I relish the way she clings to me.

“Put me down,” she demands, though it lacks any real heat.

“No.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous,” I counter, “is that you insist on resisting when we both know you want to be in my arms.”

“I hate you.”

“Mmm.” I smirk. “Then why are you smiling?”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

She can deny it all she wants, but I see the truth in every little unconscious action. She is mine.

I set her down beside my Porsche, her balance still unsteady, and open the door. I buckle her seatbelt for her, my face so close to hers I could kiss her. I lean in…

She turns her head.

“Still shy,” I remind myself, not letting it get to me.

I round the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. As we pull onto the road, I let my palm settle on her thigh. She tenses. Her shoulders reach for her ears, like she can make herself smaller, like she can disappear.

“You wound me, little flower,” I sigh. “My touch is meant to make you flourish, not wither away.”

“Soon,” I continue, “you’ll stop shying away. You’ll open your legs for me, flutter your lashes, and tell me exactly what you want.”

***

I guide her inside the restaurant, leading her toward the VIP section I reserved.

“Why are we sitting here?”

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