I stare at her back, wanting to ask about her wound. To take a look at it and make sure it’s healing properly. To remove the staples.
But that would show that I care. It would be a weak move. And I’m tired of being powerless for this woman.
I storm after her, not letting her even catch her breath or grab a knife, which I assume is the only reason she’s heading into the kitchen.
I cock my head and smirk at her as she pulls a knife out of a cutting block. “Really? You think a knife is going to protect you? You’re so predictable.”
“No, a knife won’t protect me against a monster like you. You don’t play fair. And you’re more skilled at killing people than anyone I’ve ever met. If you want me dead, you’ll kill me.”
“Then why even bother grabbing it? Why fight me? Why not just tell me the truth? You’ll live a longer, much happier life if you just give in,” I say, standing on one side of the kitchen island. She stands on the other side, using the island as a barrier between us.
“You don’t deserve the truth, killer. You don’t get any more parts of me.”
“But I haven’t even gotten to taste the best part yet.” My voice is low and throaty as I speak.
I swear I hear Liesel gasp.
We may both be married, but that doesn’t extinguish the fire between us. That doesn’t stop the pull of attraction. No matter how much Liesel hurts me, no matter how much she betrays me, on some level, my body will always want her. I just have to remember she’s poison to me. One taste and she’ll eviscerate me.
“You stole a kiss against my will—you don’t get more. I’ll cut off your balls if you so much as touch me without permission.”
There’s my feisty huntress.
I laugh. “I don’t have to take anything—before I’m done with you, you’ll be willingly giving in to me. You’ll be begging me to kiss you, to fuck you.”
“I have a wonderful husband just down the hall who is more than capable of satisfying my every need. He kisses like a king and makes me come like a servant. Why would I need a schmuck like you? You wouldn’t even be able to find my clit.”
Her words are firm and defiant, but I notice her chest heaving up and down. She’s all hot and bothered inside. I remember the explosive orgasms she had with Waylon. I remember the sounds she made, the faces. How much of that was real and how much of that was fake?
“Now you make me wonder if Waylon is the one who doesn’t know where your clit is.”
“Just like Phoenix doesn’t know how to suck you off, huh?”
Her eyes glitter with jealousy. She doesn’t like that I’m married to Phoenix any more than I like her marriage to Waylon. Not because I want to be married to her, but because she’s mine. She doesn’t get to belong to anyone else.
“I’d be happy to let you try if you think you can do better. But let me tell you, no one sucks me off like Phoenix.”
Her grip on the thin knife tightens, along with the lines around her eyes and harsh frown of her lips.
“Just leave; neither of us is going to tell the truth. We aren’t going to say that we lied and that we aren’t married. That you don’t have any freaking kids. Just go. We don’t have to keep hurting each other.”
I take a step toward her, expecting her step away from me, keeping the island between us.
She doesn’t.
“You really think you’re going to stab me if I get near?”
“You’ll have to come closer to find out.” She smirks and twists the knife around casually in her hand like it belongs there.
She forgets that I know the real her. She doesn’t like wielding a weapon. The only time she holds a knife is when she’s cutting into her food. She wouldn’t even be able to flick her wrist in my direction before my reflexes would stop her without even thinking.
I take another step.
She still doesn’t move.
My heart beats wildly in my chest, wanting to be near her, even though the only part of me that Liesel could actually damage is my heart. She has no idea the amount of torture she’s caused me. She thinks I’m the devil. I am, but I have nothing on her.
One more step and I’m standing face to face in front of her.
Her breathing is erratic. I can’t tell if she’s scared or turned on.
“Are. You. Married?” I ask. If she is, then she could go after the treasure without me. I want to know for my own personal reasons. I want to know so I know how to destroy her.
“I already told you I am.”
“You sure about that?” I study her for any signs that she’s telling the truth or lying, but all I can focus on his her breathing in and out. Her chest is rising and falling beneath Siren’s black T-shirt.
“Yes,” she says sharply, expecting me to call her out.
I inch closer, just leaning into her personal space. I won’t touch her without her permission or invitation, but I can do a lot without touching her. And I’m not planning on leaving until I get this single truth.
I take a deep breath, breathing in her scent—lavender and something floral. When I exhale down her neck, I watch her shiver.
I put my hands in the pockets of my jeans to keep from touching her.
Not yet.
Soon, though, I’ll be able to touch her.
It won’t take long to break her—to get her begging to be touched.
My eyes run down her body from head to toe. I linger over her hair—long and wavy and slightly frizzier than usual, untamed. My eyes heat over the curves of her breasts and hips and then down her slim legs
