Page 57 of Reckless Hate

She scowled.

“So, you are saying if I touch you or kiss you, you’ll feel nothing?” he pressed.

“Yes, I’ll feel nothing. And not just because it’s you. I’m incapable of having sexual desire.”

There was a loaded silence.

She realized what she had unconsciously revealed to her enemy. She must have been too tired to filter her words.

Ignoring his intense look, she began clearing away her plate. “Alright. Thanks for dinner—”

“I call bullshit,” he said. “You are capable of feeling desire, especially with my touch.”

She swept a look over him. “Like I said, don’t flatter yourself.”

His mouth twisted into a challenging smile. “Want to bet? If I win, I want you to come with me to dinner tomorrow night.”

She shivered at his challenge. “No.”

“Are you scared, Sam?” he taunted. “Worried you might tear my clothes and beg me to take you right here?”

She was reminded of his taunting when they were both children. He often got them both into trouble. They weren’t children anymore, but his wild challenge brought a similar reaction from her as it did when she was younger.

“What if I don’t feel anything with your touch?” she asked.

His eyes flashed. “Then I’ll do whatever you want.”

She returned his challenging stare. “If you lose, and I don’t orgasm, you will declare publicly that you are an asshole and will never talk to me again.”

His eyes glittered. “Deal.”

As soon as he said those words, the impact of what she had agreed to hit her with force.

Ved Simha was going to touch her to give her an orgasm. Her heart thudded rapidly. Whether it was in anticipation or panic, she wasn’t really sure.

He won’t win.

She wasn’t lying when she said she was sexually frigid. Thanks to her stepfather, anything related to sexual desire disgusted her.

At most, her enemy’s touch would make her shiver with pleasure, but having an orgasm was impossible. She felt slightly reassured.

“I’m ready,” she said, wanting to get it over with.

His mouth twisted. “Come with me.”

She frowned. “Where?”

He came around the bed, held her wrist and dragged her towards the walk-in closet. She was about to ask him what he was trying to do when he stopped in front of the long vertical mirror placed in the changing area.

He moved behind her, until she could see their reflections in the mirror. She was in her uniform shirt and skirt, while he was wearing his basketball jersey and shorts.

He was half a foot taller than her, so she could clearly see his face. Her breath hitched at the look he had on his face as he bent his head down while keeping their eyes locked together in the mirror.

“Tell me the rules,” he said in a rough, deep whisper against her ear.

She suppressed a shiver. “No removing of our clothes.” Her voice came out husky. “But… you can touch.”

She hoped his touch would make her freeze up like how the merest brushing of her stepfather’s arm or finger made her crawl. But right then, she didn’t feel disgusted. Her enemy let out a slow, wicked smile that made her want to brace herself but also anticipate his touch.

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