Page 82 of Sadistic

"The queen and her king," I correct.

"Possessive and cheesy. Wonderful combination."

But she's smiling, relaxed in a way I haven't seen before.

When I suggest we go back to my place for a drink, she agrees without hesitating at all.

The city lights blur past as I drive faster than necessary, both of us eager for what we know is going to happen once we get there.

She's turned toward me in her seat, studying me.

"What?" I ask.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"About how this is nothing like I expected." She touches my hand on the gear shift. "You're nothing like I expected."

"Disappointed?"

"Jury's still out."

But her fingers intertwine with mine, and I know she's lying.

Inside my penthouse, I pour us drinks—whiskey for me, wine for her.

She kicks off her heels, immediately losing three inches, and pads barefoot to the windows.

"The view is still incredible," she says.

"So is mine." I'm watching her, the way the city lights play across her skin.

She turns, catching me staring. "Smooth."

"I have my moments."

"Yeah?" She sets down her wine, walks toward me with intent in her eyes. "What other moments do you have?"

"Why don't you find out?"

She stops just out of reach. "I've been thinking about last night all day."

"What about it?"

"About how you touched me. How you looked at me." She steps closer. "About how I want you to do it again."

"Revna—"

"Shut up." She reaches up, pulls me down to her level. "Less talking."

The kiss is hungry, nothing like what happened last night.

She knows what she wants now, and apparently, what she wants is me. Her hands are already working at my shirt buttons, impatient.

I back her against the windows, the city spread out behind her like a glittering backdrop.

My hand slides up her body, past her ribs, her chest, settling at the base of her throat.

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