Page 70 of Dance of Devils
“Oh God,” I choke, backing away from him, my chest rising and falling. “I am SOsorry?—”
I scream when he surges into me, his gloved hands plowing into my shoulders and shoving me stumbling backward. I barely catch my balance to avoid falling, then whirl to stare at him in utter confusion.
“I—!”
“Never show weakness,” Kir growls. “Accept your wins.Takethem. Don’t apologize for them,” he barks.
“I don’t want to hit you!” I yell. “I don’t want to fight!”
“Then give up!” he roars. “Go take your goddamn clothes off for money and accept that life is always going to be hard, and the deck will always be stacked against you. If you give up,” he hisses, “thenthat’syour pathetic little life.” He glares at me. “That what you want, Brooklyn? To be pathetic?”
“Fuck you,” I spit. “You power-hungry egotistical fucking psycho?—”
“Language!!” he bellows.
It happens as suddenly as a crack of lightning. Without thinking about the repercussions, I launch myself at him with a terrifying battle cry on my lips that I don’t even recognize. My gloved fist slams into the side of his jaw again, knocking his head to the side. I punch him as hard as I can in the stomach, and then again in his chest.
“FUCK! YOU!” I scream, punching him over and over, my fists and arms whirling madly as my vision turns black and red.
I wince when his glove smacks the side of my head. But I dig deep, snarling with fury I didn’t know I possessed as I hurl myself at him again.
Our limbs tangle. Gloves smack against muscle. Our choked, snarled gasps and muttered curses mix with heavy, panted breaths. Skin rubs against skin. My hair spills across my face as the world goes sideways and I find myself being tackled to the ground, still fighting him as we land in a panting, heaving heap.
It’s not until our eyes lock that everything goes still, the black and red mist clears from my eyes, and I’m suddenly hyper aware of three things.
One, I’m on my back on the floor. Two, Kir is between my legs, which are wrapped around his hips. His muscled arms are on either side of my head, his gloved fists balancing him right over me, his face inches from mine.
And three?
I can feel Kir’sthick, large erection twitching against my pussy through his gym pants and my thin dance shorts, in a way that has my pulse roaring and my core tingling and aching with need.
Something inside me flickers and ignites as the full reality of the situation throbs quite literally against me.
The room is silent except for the labored sound of our breathing. My pulse races madly, my skin slick with sweat and tingling with inescapable heat. Kir’s eyes are alive with black fire, lancing right into mine as his arm muscles flex.
Time stands still as I feel his hips subtly grind against me, his huge erection rubbing against my pussy.
I’m wet.
Horribly, achingly, disastrously so.
His arms lower slightly, and my breath catches as my eyes dart between his eyes and his sinfully perfect lips.
He lowers himself even more until his mouth is barely two inches from mine, the sweet heat of his breath teasing over my lips as our chests rise and fall.
Do it, I scream inside.Close the distance. Kiss me until it’s all I know. Just fucking do it. Please.
“Kir—”
I startle when he suddenly flinches. Abruptly, like a switch being thrown, he’s pushing himself off me, scrambling to his feet, and whirling away.
I lie there stunned on the floor for a second before a mortifying feeling crashes through me, forcing me to my feet. I turn away,hugging myself, trying to catch my breath and slow my racing heart.
But then, realization floods my skin and sinks into my veins.
That’s the second time this has happened: a too-real momentary flash of intimacy that we’rebothclearly being drawn into. But thenhepulls back, and grows cold, and acts like it was allme.
I’m tired of being made to think that I’m the only one who keeps feeling this.
