Kinked (Elder Races #6)(37)

She took a deep breath. “We hold an experiment and set a time limit. We get fifteen minutes each of total control over the other person. You think you could handle that?”

Once she had thought of the idea, she couldn’t stop. Surely fifteen minutes was doable. She could do almost anything for that long, including holding her breath. It would totally be worth it to own fifteen minutes of his ass.

Quentin looked suspicious. After he thought for a moment, he said, “Fine. On one condition. Your time comes first.”

“You wish.” She snorted. “We’ll do a coin toss.”

“No coin toss. You brought it up. They’re your terms. You go first.” His smile had turned catlike in anticipation. “Besides, you’ve bloodied me twice. You owe me.”

“I don’t owe you anything. You pounded my head on the pavement and throttled me. Twice.”

“You pinned me against a metal door with your f**king talons, for God’s sake.” He moved so close, he was in her face. They stood toe-to-toe, looking in each other’s eyes. “You punched me.”

“You punched me first,” she pointed out. It had been a hell of a strike too, much faster than she had expected. She had admired that—and made a point to never forget it.

“Are we going to keep going like this forever, or are you going to strike the bargain you offered?” He gave her a hard smile that glittered in the firelight, put a finger under her chin and tilted her face just so. Then his mouth came to hover over hers, their skin barely touching. He whispered, “Give it up, Aryal.”

Her breath came short and fast, and he had to know it, because the only way he could be closer to her was if he were French-kissing her. He started to laugh again, only this time it sounded angry. He really did think she had just been f**king with him.

She said, “Deal.”

He froze.

It was her turn to laugh. She always loved the feeling of cutting loose, no matter where she found it. Jumping off a cliff, starting a chase, losing all the doubts and questions and analyses. She was the original Nike girl. Just doing it.

She might not trust him, but she trusted her own judgment. He wouldn’t kill her. There was no way he could do it in this kind of setting and hope to sell it as an accident to Dragos back home, and besides, he had been telling the truth about that earlier. Just like her, he’d had the impulse and given it up.

If he hurt her really badly, he was going to have to cut her loose at some point, and then it was his turn.

And if he tried to renege on his part of the bargain, well.

Hell hath no fury like a harpy who’s been f**ked over.

“Fifteen minutes,” she told him. “Set your iPhone’s clock when you’re ready to start. We wouldn’t want to lose track of such a short amount of time.”

Inside, her heart was leaping about like a jackrabbit. If she could have pounced on it to make it stop, she would have. How badly was she going to hate this? She needed to keep her eye on the prize—her time with him, or a real sense of righteousness as she kicked his ass.

Angling his head, looking the very picture of incredulity, he backed up, dug in his pack until he found his iPhone, turned it on and programmed it. His thumb hovering over the screen, he glanced up. Anticipation had sharpened his lean features until he looked even more predatory than ever. “Last chance to back out.”

Surprised that he even offered, she snorted, the sound derisive. “It’s just fifteen minutes. You’re not that scary. Do it.”

He pressed the iPhone. Held it up and showed it to her. Fifteen minutes were counting down on the screen. Carefully he set it on the table.

Then he sprang at her, and even though she had been expecting him to do something, somehow she hadn’t been ready for his incredible speed. He pushed her back until she hit the wall. Already they were both breathing heavily, as if they had been fighting for a very long time.

He pressed his long, hard body against hers and took her chin in one hand, and with the other hand, he held a stiffened finger under her nose.

“Shut up,” he said. “Don’t say a word out loud or telepathically. We’re going to have fifteen minutes of silence from you. I know that’s going to break your head, and the thought of that makes my day, so just f**king do it. Don’t touch me, and did I say, shut up?”

Laughter exploded out her nose. She opened her mouth.

He glared at her. “One word, sunshine, and you forfeit your fifteen.”

Ouch. She had words, so many of them, crashing into each other like a freeway pileup. She made a frustrated noise and panted a little with the effort to hold them back.

He stroked her hair. Her gaze slid up and sideways to track the movement of his hand. His expression was sharp, electric. He looked fascinated with whatever he saw in her expression. “Can you do it?”

She widened her gaze and shrugged. She honestly didn’t know. Of all the things she had been braced for, she hadn’t expected this. As an adversary, he was diabolical. As a potential sex partner, the diabolic part grew exponentially.

He chuckled, and the husky sound was full of triumph and intent. Then he bent his head and kissed her.

Really, really kissed her. Deep and full out, his tongue invading her mouth, his lips hardened and hungry as he pressed against her body. Kissing and kissing her.

Her hands came up.

He said in warning, telepathically, Huh-uh.