Page 92 of Carnal Games

What has heat traveling to my face is the state of my lower half, which is a million times worse. In my attempt to protect myself, I forgot I was wearing a tight pencil skirt with a slit in the back. It has stretched indecently to the tops of my thighs, judging by the air teasing my bare skin and a large hand gripping my naked thigh hard.

I also think I’m missing heels on my feet.

With the state of my clothes and our position, an innocent bystander will think we were fucking. I know I need to move, but it’ll come at the cost of separating from him. I don’t want to do that. I like it here. I want to explore his body.

Maybe I’ll get away with the excuse I was too scared and not in my senses if I push my hands underneath his jacket and check if he has six-pack abs or an eight-pack? As long as I get to feel his skin, I’ll be a happy girl. It’ll be too long before I come this close to him again. It’s not even a question of if, but when.

Seconds tick by and neither of us utters a word.

How am I supposed to look him in the eye?

All of a sudden, I remember where we are, and sanity returns. How will we explain our position if anybody sees us?

Gathering courage, I force myself to lift my head. Except my lips graze the exposed skin of his neck above the collar of hisshirt. It’s too brief to tell his taste. I crave another lick but refrain from acting on my instinct.

Tilting my head, I meet his gaze, scared which emotion will be swirling in them.

Fuck! They’re intense and hooded to electrifying degrees. His stubble-darkened jaw is rigid while his lips are flattened into a line. The buzz cut of his hair makes his features even more pronounced and predatory.

I itch to soothe the sharp planes of his face as he stares down at me, unblinking.

Meanwhile, his palm cupping my ass shifts to the other side of my waist. Lord! His body feels like it’s made of granite. My thighs flex around his hips involuntarily as an ache roars to life in my pussy. I want to rub and grind against him to relieve the vivid pain.

Every orgasm—big or small—I’ve had has been to dirty fantasies of him.

“Kian,” I rasp low, bringing my hand to rest between his pecs.

His eyes flicker down and go vacant a second before he lowers me to the hard floor like I’m on fire.

Confused and disappointed about what set him off, I look down and curse at the sight of my engagement ring. It’s becoming the bane of my existence.

When I glance up, his torn and burning gaze is locked on my bare legs. Daring to test his control and desperate for his touch, I keep my hands at my sides instead of righting my skirt, which has risen to the middle of my thighs.

A vein throbs in his temple.

In an unhinged voice, he snaps, “Fix your clothes, Miss Mannan.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Kian

Motherfucking hell!

Touching Iris was a grave mistake, even at the cost of protecting her from a stupid freaking lizard.

It’s all I can think about as she stands two feet from me, staring at me with a lost expression, like she knows my mind is going haywire and doesn’t know how to help me.

She should slap me, yell at me for holding her longer than necessary. For hesitating to tell her to fix her skirt. Something she herself should’ve done the instant I let her go.

Heck, she should remind me she belongs to Nathan!

Why am I losing my sanity over the one woman I can’t have?

One error of judgement and the floodgates have opened.

She shouldn’t have reached for me, clutched me like a lifeline.

I want to punch the nearest wall and crumble this building to the ground. Only violence will counter the desire thatexploded in my veins the nanosecond she launched herself into my arms.

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