Page 105 of A Deal with the Devil

Chapter Twenty-Six

Kitty could only blink at the raw need, the brutal power of his honesty. The way he looked at her had not changed since before she confessed. Everything was a whirlwind inside of her, but it no longer felt like it was going to sweep her away or toss her about or pull her under the water. “You don’t think less of me,” she said, awed.

“I think less of every single person in your life who allowed you to be in that position in the first place.”

“Oh.” She had not anticipated that.

“I won’t punish you for that,” he said. “But I will punish you for refusing to admit that you are beautiful. Resilient. If you want me to.”

“Yes, please.”

“You could at least pretend to act intimidated. A little bit sorry for disobeying me.” He bit her lower lip again, harder this time. “No one else dares, you know.”

But she wasn’t scared of him. And although admitting what she had done had not magically taken away the consequences of her choices, she did feel lighter, less murky inside, like a pond too overgrown to thrive. She felt seen. Accepted. Not alone.

It was powerful. Heady.

“Oh no,” she teased in a faintly mocking tone, all while rubbing against him. “The Devil’s got me now. Whatever shall I do?”

“Oh, that’s it,” he growled, dragging her arms above her head. He curled her fingers around the base of a tree. “You’re mine now. You hold on to this. Understand?

“Yes, Rhys.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Better, but you’re not fooling anyone.”

She arched against him again. He grabbed her hips, stilling her. The suddenness of it made her gasp. Made her moan. He kept her there even as he settled between her legs, widening them, teasing, promising. Slowly. Making her wait.

“I thought I told you to keep your hands on that tree?” he asked, deceptively mild.

“I…forgot?” She needed to touch him. Needed him to touch her. Now.

He looked down at her, at his most dominating and stern.

She loved it. She bloody well loved it.

And he knew it.

“Do you know something?” he said silkily. “I’m not sure I can trust you to follow orders.”

“Probably not,” she admitted happily. Probably a little too happily.

He unknotted his cravat and wound it around her wrists, securing them above her head to the tree. She was properly bound, just like a maiden sacrifice to the Devil. “Better,” he said when she tested the knot but could not get free. The gleam in his eyes was predatory. “Much better.”

And then he just sat back on his heels and let his gaze roam over her.

But not his hands. Or his mouth. Or his teeth.

“Rhys, please.”

He smiled as if she weren’t writhing in the grass, already begging for him when he had barely touched her. “Such pretty manners when you want something,” he said. “Tell me, firecracker. What is it you want?”

“You.”

“I’m right here.”

“Rhys, I swear to God I’m going to—”

A disapproving click of his tongue. A correction.