Page 27 of 'Tis the season of Wicked Deeds

His abs contract and tighten as my fingertips graze them while I attempt to climb up his body and get closer to his hand, which is lifted in the air.

“Give it back,” I demand. “It’s… it’s not mine.”

“Naughty little liar,” he tsks.

Ugh. Why do these things keep happening to me? And why does it always happen around him? Can I not have a day where I’m not embarrassing myself in front of him?

Fuck it. I have no choice but to own it.

I’m a twenty-first century woman, I shouldn’t be embarrassed by my desires.

I brazenly lift my chin, which comes close to faltering when he shamelessly speaks.

“I can’t decide which one is my favorite. Sex in front of the fireplace or tying you spread-eagled to the bed and fucking you all night long.”

“Stop reading!” As if once wasn’t enough.

“With you, each one is meant to drive a man crazy and thank his lucky stars.”

I hide my blush by attempting to step away from his furnace-like embrace. His spicy and woodsy scent intoxicates my senses until I’m driven by lascivious thoughts and lust.

Kingston is having none of it and instead picks me up with one arm like I weigh nothing, which is probably true.

“What are you doing?” I kick my legs and only hit air. “Put me down.”

He carries me to the dining table in the corner and sets me on top of it. Caging me in with his thick arms on both sides, he shamelessly questions, “Did you come here hoping to explore your fantasies?”

I open my mouth to refute.

He cuts me off with a command. “The truth.”

“Yes,” I whisper, becoming a willing prey of his dominant edge. “Some of them.”

“Are you embarrassed that I mistakenly saw it or that I’ll judge you for your darkest cravings?” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The simple touch sets me ablaze. “I would understand the first, but the latter will make me mad because you shouldn’t be ashamed of your desires. We all have them, Twinkle.”

“Tell me yours.”

“It’s makingyourscome true,” he roughly growls. “In every dirty, depraved, messy way imaginable.”

I’m both scared and aroused at the prospect of fulfilling my filthy dreams with the star of my fantasies.

But it would be bad.

Oh-so bad.

Because I’d become too attached, with feelings developing deeper than a silly crush. We’ve already skipped too many stages of normal dating.

Where will that leave me afterward? Sitting on a train alone with a broken heart back to India. The possibility pours cold water over my overly-stimulated body.

“Cocky of you to assume I’m going to ask you, Kingston,” I tease, my inner boldness returning. Resting my hands beside his, I lean back. “I never meant for you to see that list. It was an honest mistake.”

I expect him to straighten and give me space.

He does the opposite.

Cupping my chin, he asks me to confess the biggest desire of all. “Who were you thinking of when you wrote your naughty little list?”

“No one,” I stammer, licking my lips.

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