Page 30 of Hell Over Heels

The air between us fairly crackled with a charged heaviness.

“Now,” he said, the deep timbre of his voice sinking into my bones, “about that question of mine.”

CHAPTER 8

I whipped my head up, giving him an alarmed look. “What do you want to know?”

“Earlier,” he purred, standing much too close, still holding my hand, his thumb stroking over the back of it, “when I said you’d have to make it up to me, you were thinking of something. Something that made your face blush scarlet. What was it?”

I involuntarily twitched. Another lie wanted to climb to the tip of my tongue, embarrassment heating my chest and face. Because while I’d seen—felt—us explore each other in all kinds of sensual ways, it was one thing to know that it would happen, but a completely different matter to speak about it.

Out loud.

In front of him.

While he looked at me like I was a snack.

My heart drummed with such force that I was sure he heard it. It was most certainly loud enough to fill my head.

I opened my mouth.

“Remember,” he said softly, “that you swore to be honest.”

I closed my mouth with an audible click and swallowed. The coercion of the magic infusing the agreement I’d made built inside me, filling my cells with a nearly painful buzzing.

Licking my lips, I lowered my gaze to his throat, anywhere but his eyes, the connection far too intimate. God damn it, even his throat was sexy, all those muscles and sinews, light stubble on his bronze skin that I wanted to feel rasping against my mouth.

“I was thinking of,” I began, my voice breathy, “making it up to you by…” I broke off, squirming on the spot.

“Don’t be shy.”

Inhaling deeply, I squeezed my eyes shut, then gathered my nerves and plowed forward. “By sitting on your face.”

Silence.

Weighty silence.

I opened just one eye to peer up at him, cringing on the inside.

His nostrils flared as he stared at me with such intensity that it rattled me to my core. Something almost seemed to move under the surface of his face…or were those tiny cracks appearing in his skin? With fire underneath? His power raised the temperature around us to a boiling point.

“Sitting on my face,” he said, his voice rougher than I’d ever heard from him.

“Among other things,” I whispered.

He placed his free hand on the wall next to my head, effectively half caging me in. “What other things?”

His energy brushed against my senses with unmistakably erotic intent. A soft gasp escaped me. It was like a switch had been flipped in him. Before, he’d been mostly businesslike, if a bit flirtatious, his power held in check with only a hint slipping free here and there that indicated the ferocity at its core, but now it seemed sprung from its leash, its entire staggering force channeled into unapologetically carnal design.

“What other things?” he repeated, his voice now hitting a deep note that made my insides quiver.

“Taking you in my mouth.” Thump, thump, went my heart. “Making you come all over me.”

He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a choked-back groan.

“Having you tease me until I beg you to let me come,” I whispered into the heated space between us. “Until you bend me over and take me hard while pulling my hair.”

His wings shook, his power ramped up to scorching hot. “You seem to have put a lot of thought into this.”