Page 33 of Hollow House
He saw the way my arms wrapped around my middle and I shied away from him. His arms wrapped around me and tucked me close.“Let’s start with the familiar,” he said. “A simple game.”
“A game?”
“For each question asked, we remove a piece of clothing,” he mused.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that game goes,” I answered, a smile tugging at my lips.I expected far worse.
He shrugged.
“Maybe I’m just trying to find an excuse to see you without clothing again.”
“I’ll play,” I said.
I crossed the room and picked up a tickler. When I spun back to face him, he had closed a bit of distance between us. I pointed the tickler at him. “You first.”
“Fine. What’s your favorite color?” he asked with a smirk.
I saw exactly what he was doing, and I wouldn’t make it so easy for him.
“Pink,” I said, tossing my pink-streaked hair behind my shoulder.
I reached down and pulled off my pair of black heels. My feet were aching, pulsing with freedom the second they went flat. My arms crossed and hip popped as I gave him a wicked grin.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
He took a step closer.
“Damon,” he answered without hesitation, slipping off the black loafers he wore.
This game wouldn’t last long. It was far too easy, and there were minimal layers I had to work with. But I didn’t care. That was the point.
“Why do you truly wish to write an article on Hollow House?” he asked.
“I thought you would know that,” I pointed out.
“Humor me, love,” he said.
“I want a promotion,” I answered and shrugged.
It was at least part of the truth, but his eyes bore into me like he saw past that tidbit of information. The silence burned through me as I slipped my hand to pull off my bra.
“Not yet,” he stopped me with two words.
I let go of my dress and stopped fidgeting with the fabric. My head cocked, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Answer fully, or you didn’t answer,” he said.
“I did?—”
“You didn’t, or you’re lying to yourself. You don’t want to be stuck at that small town magazine,” he said.
He saw right through me. He’d claimed to know all about me; apparently, that stalking was intricate and thorough. Beyond just my job, he knew details of my life few knew.
“Fine,” I admitted. “I want my ticket away from here.”
I maneuvered my dress and slowly, tortuously, pulled off my bra, keeping my eyes set on him. His entire body tensed; I could tell he was holding himself back. Only steps away from him, I reached out with the tickler, running the feathers along his neck. The shudder that ran through his body was visible.
I wasn’t even quite sure I was using the thing right, but it seemed to have an effect on him, which was my goal.
