Page 127 of Dancing With Demons

I blushed, ducking my face. I was twenty-two years old for Hera’s sake. I wasn’t a red-faced teenager anymore, but even so, I had no defense against Ronin Belphe. The way he dropped compliments on me like he was just stating facts of life, undid me every time.

“So what’s going on?” I asked, changing the subject. “Why did you want to see Tristan before you saw me?”

“I needed his help with something. Turns out, that mutt has a use after all. The guy’s like an expert when it comes to making mortal women fall in love with him. He’s got every pussy dripping for him,” said the never-going-to-not-be-a-fucking-work-in-progress. “He gave me the secret to make you mine forever.”

I rubbed my temples. I suddenly felt a headache coming on. “All right. Lay it on me.”

“Hold on. I wrote it down.” He reached over and opened the nightstand drawer. He pulled out a piece of paper. “It’s called... con-sent,” Ronin pronounced. “So, it’s like, I ask you if you want to do something, and then if you say yes, we do it, but—and this is the important bit—if you say no.” He clapped. “We don’t do it. Crazy, right?”

“Astounding,” I deadpanned.

He blinked at me, so adorably clueless. “Have you heard of this consent stuff before?”

“I have.” A smile tugged at my lips. “And Tristan is right. Us mortal women get wet for consent like nothing else.”

“Well, there you fucking go,” Ronin crowed, whooping it up. “Let’s try it out right now.”

A tiny thrill of anticipation went through me, warming up my core. It had been a very long time since Ronin and I had rolled around in the sheets, and aphrodisiac or no aphrodisiac, we were incredibly sexually compatible.

“Here goes,” Ronin began. “Hunter, I know you want me to get the leech out of the wall, but after I do, do I have your consent to kill him?”

“No!” I blared, shooting upright. “And are you telling me he’s still in there? Dammit, Ronin, get him out!”

“All right, I will.” He couldn’t have sound less interested in doing so if he tried. “But if Professor Leech has to live, then can I at least get your consent to kill every other man who expresses sexual interest in you?”

I shook my head. “Only if they express that interest physically and against my will.”

“Has the mutt expressed his sexual interest physically and against your will?”

“He has not,” I clipped.

“Can I pretend you said he did and kill him anyway?”

I was full-blown laughing now. Climbing onto the bed, I swung my leg over him and straddled his lap. “Ronin, you could be getting my consent for much more interesting things right now, so do you really want to keep talking about Santino and Tristan?”

His brows shot up his forehead as understanding hit him in the face. “Charlotte Hunter, do I have your consent to fuck you like a wild beast?”

“Yes. I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Giggling like outlaws on the run, our clothes came off in a flurry of kisses, nips and moans.

Ronin flipped us over—me on my back and him on top. Grasping my wrists, he pinned them down on either side of my head. “I want us to do it right this time, Hunter.”

“I want that too.”

He placed the lightest kiss on my neck, popping goose bumps on my heated flesh. “That’s why I want you to show me how you like it. How you want it.”

I blinked. He wasn’t saying what I thought he was saying, was he? “What does that mean?”

“Do you consent to be spanked?”

“Wha—?”

A firm swat landed on my backside. I choked on a shocked gasp that was more a moan.

“Hey, I didn’t say yes yet, you jerk!”

“Yet?” His grin was wolfish. “So you were going to?”