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Next thing she knows, he parts the slit of her sarong, his hand roaming. A big palm squeezes her thigh. This time it’s her turn to make some sort of wicked, desperate sound. Because his lips taste like lime. His sea-salt scent makes her head spin.
“Kill,” she gasps into his mouth when she pulls back. “Not kiss. I was going to say kill.”
“Not yet,” he rasps against her lips. “I’m not done with you.”
Ash laughs darkly. And then Nathaniel’s mouth is back on hers.
She opens her eyes while she’s kissing him. Her heart pounds. God, he’s so fucking beautiful. He looks so hungry. And she’s feeding him. The thought causes her to whimper.
She closes her eyes, digs her nails in and intensifies the kiss. Might as well. She’s had just the right amount of tequila.
He growls in response. Slides a hand up to cup the curve of her throat. Sweeps his thumb over the back of her neck. Slow and teasing. “God's sake, Ash,” he groans, but his tone isn’t exasperated. He sounds…turned on. Ravenous.
Heart rate spiking, she clutches the thin fabric of his shirt. Yet instead of shoving him into the ocean the way she’s imagined,she glues him to her. She feels delicate against this ridiculously massive body of his.
“Ugh,” she mumbles, even as she holds him close. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“Because we hate each other.”
“Liar,” he murmurs, smug. With his thumbs, he grazes her collarbone—a primal motion that curls her toes. His jawline is dangerous, and so is his kiss. So sweet. If she lets him get too close, there’s no telling what she’ll let him do to her.
Heated gaze raking over her face, he pulls back a fraction. “It’s a lie.”
She blinks at him. Unsteady and confused and overheated. Doesn’t he hate her? Doesn’t he still hold a grudge?
As if in answer, his mouth lands on hers again.
Ash stiffens. Expecting apocalypse, the entire collapse of society the minute his arms lock around her waist.
But there’s only bliss.
Sweet, beautiful bliss.
A little murmur of joy pops off her lips. Wordlessly, she nods. Gives in.
Kissing. They’re only kissing.
A good idea. She hasn’t had a blistering make-out session since…well, since she hooked up with her roommate at that German hostel.
Wait. No.
A bad idea.
What is she doing?
She’s kissing Augustus’s grandson. Making a mess of things like she always does.
Whatever exists between them, this isn’t what she meant when she suggested a truce.
Abort mission. Abort kiss. Abort everything about tonight.
“Nathaniel,” she murmurs.
As she tries to pull away, he tugs her back into his arms. He’s hot, hard. The length of him presses against her like a brand. Only, instead of lunging for his lips for the third time like a feral kiss-starved hell beast, she stops him with a hand to his shoulder.
“No.” Her lips pulse from his kisses. “It’s the truth. We hate each other.”
