Does It Hurt? (10)

Swallowing, I meet his stare, staying in the water where it’s safe. I can’t decipher any of the emotions in his eyes. He has them on lockdown, and not knowing how he’s feeling or what he’s thinking—it’s disconcerting.

“Are you going to murder me now?” I ask, my voice scarcely above the thunderous sound from the falls. It would be incredibly easy for my screams to be washed away.

“Would anyone be looking for you?” he retorts.

I smile sardonically. “Yes. I have people looking for me right now.” He’ll never understand the truth of that statement. Not until it’s too late, at least.

“This waterfall isn’t well known,” he responds, dragging his gaze down the column of my neck before returning to my eyes. “It’d take a while to find you.”

Despite the fact that I’m sweating from the temperature, his answer—no, his voice—sends shivers down my spine.

I shrug. “I never want to be found.”

“Then I suppose I have you right where I want you,” he drawls lazily.

I’m in trouble, but it’s the type of danger that makes you smile uncontrollably as you ride the line between life and death. The kind of danger that gives you a thrill, makes you feel alive, and then leaves you bereft and empty when it’s over.

“Want to know what I thought of you when we were in the bar?” I quiz.

“That I could get you pregnant with one look,” he reiterates dryly. Liquid heat pools low in my stomach from his words. I don’t even want kids, so it’s shameful to admit that I’m incredibly turned on.

It’s like your celebrity crush talking about knocking you up. Doesn’t matter if you want kids or not, your panties immediately melt at the thought.

I shake my head, breathing in deep, hoping I inhale oxygen that will cleanse the delirium from my mind.

“That you could ruin me with just the tip,” I admit, grinning when he looks a little taken aback.

“What makes you think I’d fuck you?”

Ouch.

I shrug, ignoring the embarrassment beginning to creep up my cheeks.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t?”

He stares at me for a moment, his eyes assessing. It feels like he has a lockpick and is poking through my brain, trying to unravel all my secrets.

But I’ll never tell.

Finally, he slowly shakes his head, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. I zero in on the act, my mouth both parting and salivating.

He drops his knee, both legs now submerged in the water, and leans forward. I bristle under the intensity of his stare, unsure if his eyes are blazing because he’s attracted to me, too, or if he’s tired of my questions.

“You’re going to ruin me, too. But unfortunately for you, that’s where I feel most at home.”

I gather enough courage to tread closer to him, but not close enough for him to grab for me. I’m not that brave yet.

I’ve never been brave at all.

“What does that mean?” I ask, getting distracted by another droplet trailing down his chest.

“It means that if anything happens, tonight is it. One night.”

I look up at him through my lashes, and I feel a bead of water drip from my eyebrow and trail down my cheek. It feels symbolic.

“Deal,” I say, my voice hoarse with desire. “Then we never see each other again.”

Before he can answer, I dip below the surface and swim until I’m right at his feet. I pop up, swiping my hands back through my blonde strands, and nearly choke from the fire in his hazel eyes.

Heart pounding, I brace my hands on each of his knees and lift myself up until we’re eye to eye. He tenses beneath me but doesn’t move away. Up close, I can see just how extraordinary his eyes are. Swirls of golden brown and green mix together, rimmed by a dark ring. And on his right eye is that dark spot, like someone accidentally dropped a bead of ink.

“But I need to make sure of one thing first,” I tell him, darting my tongue out to wet my lips. His eyes drift down, watching my tongue disappear before traveling farther south, lingering on my breasts that are pushed together and the water trailing over my curves. Slowly, he lifts his stare, and by the time our eyes reconnect, I’m nearly panting. Now, I can see raw emotion reflected back at me. Near-feral desire, and it’s fucking invigorating.

His fists clench and my breathing stutters as I watch a man possessed with need hold himself perfectly still, not even a breath expanding his chest.

Forging on, I whisper, “I’m tired of men who don’t know what they’re doing. So, kiss me first. If you don’t know how to fuck me with your mouth, then you won’t know how to use your dick, either.”

He chuckles, the sound low and deep. Humorless, like I’ve just told him that I’m not scared of him while he’s holding a knife to my jugular.

Even though his smirk is cruel, it does things to my insides anyway. Twists them up like a rag drenched in gasoline before lighting a match to it. I just know I’ll never be the same again after tonight.

A dimple appears in his right cheek as those white teeth sink into his bottom lip, as if he’s holding in cynical laughter.

“You want me to fuck you with my mouth? I can do that, baby. But it will be your pussy I’m fucking.”

He lifts a hand, trailing his fingers up my cheek and into my hair. I tremble beneath his fiery touch, my bones turning to jelly just from a single brush of his skin.