Page 689 of One More Kiss

The fingers on my chin jump to my nape, where he weaves his fingers through my tangled lengths and yanks firmly. When I hiss from the sharp shock, his pupils flare, signaling a stark warning.

His spine straightens when my hands fly to his taut pectorals, both of us inhaling the same turbulent air. Static volts of adrenaline spark and catch fire.

Goosebumps race down my arms. Alcoholic vapor expels from his lungs and mingles with the oxygen feeding mine. We’re close enough to promise danger, in spitting distance of my first ever interaction with a male. Not just any man—a cold-hearted villain who refuses to look anywhere other than my mouth. Crazy sparks of electricity hiss between us, shooting from my toes to my scalp.

His five o’clock shadow seems darker, his eyes molten. The slow grin quirking his lips borders on iniquitous, yet hints at hidden hunger. “Do not touch me,” he growls. “Remove your hands before I remove them myself.”

My cheeks sting with the slap of his request, so brusque and unkind. Embarrassment tells me I've clearly misunderstood the lust feathering his gaze. But when my hands drop, they inadvertently brush over the tented fabric at his groin. There's no mistake.

Something alarming flickers behind his eyes, darkness mixed with animosity. His features tense as he raises his head to lock his spine, vertebrae by vertebrae. Until he’s taller, fiercely serious, and kingly in his stance.

My heart drops, the plummeting reaction to his distaste more intrusive than a carcinogenic allergy.

“Men have taken bullets for their lies and insubordination. Even though you passed my test earlier, my father still wants you dead. You’re in his territory where intruders never get out alive.”

Tingles lose control within me, the mass effect causing my body to involuntarily shake. “Come quietly or Elias Souza will kill you himself. It's your choice.”

On that cold, cruel statement, he wades backwards through the foggy mist of misplaced temptation. Each step eliminating the attraction until it’s nothing but a murderous promise from the devil.

With a click of his long fingers, he turns in his overpriced designer running shoes and exits the stall, fully expecting good behavior.

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