Page 77 of Through the Flames
The urge to cross my arms over my chest was just as strong as throwing myself at him, and I didn’t know which would end worse for me.
Stripping like this under his gaze felt strangely intimate. The cold always lingering in this house hit my flushed skin, turning my hardening nipples into diamond-hard peaks.
“You gonna make me wear a tracking collar too?” I deadpanned.
A faint smirk played around his sinful lips again, just enough to make my heart stutter.
“Don’t need to. I already know where you are.”
Looking at the floor, trying to escape his intense, piercing gaze. Even the lingering silence between us felt like it belonged to him.
I held out my hand expectantly. A beat passed, then another — still no shirt.
Furrowing my brows in confusion, my eyes flicked up to his face. “You want me to beg or something?”
His nostrils flaring, he was staring down at me, surprisingly not focused on my chest, but on my face.
“Look at you coming up with ideas already. But no. I don’t want you to beg. I want you to earn it.”
I licked my lips, watching him track the movement, his jaw clenching. “Oh? And how do I earn it?”
“Get on your knees, Ella,” he growled.
A beat of static buzzed in my skull, and suddenly it was hard to breathe.Where had all the air gone?I should hate him for this. Instead, I hated how much I wanted to obey.
Desperate to regain some sense of control, I forced out a breathless laugh. The sound was brittle, cracking at the edges.
“I — what?”
Hunter didn’t even blink. “You heard me.”
Something in my stomach flipped like a live wire, and I felt a surge of adrenaline as I realized what was happening.
Oh my God.
He was serious. Like,dead serious.
This man probably filed his taxes on time, and now he was ordering me to get on my knees as though it were the weather forecast. He actually…
What thehellhad I just signed up for?
And yet, my knees hit the carpet before my brain could catch up with my body. The rug was soft under my bare knees as I gazed up at the powerful length of his frame.
His gray joggers — those should be illegal — were hanging deliciously low on his hips, and my pussy clenched traitorously at the sight.
Every muscle in his body was tense, his hands curled into fists, making the veins in his hands and forearms pop. I paused when I caught sight of the ink for the first time.
Coiled up his forearms were snakes, sinuous and dangerous, with skulls peeking out from their twists, dark and bold. The lines were precise and purposeful, mirroring his own nature.
My stomach fluttered in a way I didn’t entirely want to admit. Every shadow and curl of ink was designed to mesmerize, daring you to look closer.
When had he gotten a tattoo?
And more importantly, would he let melickit?
Shaking my head at the rogue thought, my attention snagged on his bulge, which was growing more prominent by the second. Yeah, Hunter was getting hard for me.
So much for calm and collected, Robot Boy.
