Dark Angel by Lilith Darville

Author:Lilith Darville
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781998127306
Publisher: Lilith Darville

22

RAYNE

Late next morning. The nerve of him, standing there in my room like the king of the damn castle, poking me like I'm some snooze button on his personal alarm clock. I blink at the fuzzy outline of his figure, not bothering to reach for my glasses. He doesn't deserve my clear-eyed attention, not after leaving me strung up in knots of frustration the night before.

I sit bolt upright, yanking the blanket around me like armor, my hands flying out almost of their own accord. Fingers fumbling, I grab the sash of his robe and start knotting. Something completely juvenile but I’m in a hormonal freefall. He's pushed me to the brink, again and again, leaving me teetering on a precipice of desire without ever granting me the fall. What am I to him? A plaything? A tease? My mind shies away from the answers, anger bubbling up like a geyser.

With each twist of the fabric, I punctuate my rage and frustration with a word. “I. Hate. You.” Each word is a knot, a binding of my fury. And what does he do? He grins. That rare and infuriatingly cocky grin that makes me want to wipe it off his face with the back of my hand.

But I don't. Because despite the volcanic rage within me, there's something else too—a twisted sort of pleasure in seeing that smirk, knowing I put it there, even if it's for all the wrong reasons. It's a dangerous game, this dance of anger and attraction, and he's playing his part with infuriating perfection.

Then, what's his next move? This infuriating man begins to untangle each knot, painfully slow, all the while fixing me with this steady gaze. Doesn’t utter a single word. Just looks, his eyes doing all the talking. It's like he's trying to unravel more than just the knots on his robe, like he's peeling back layers, trying to get under my skin. Like I poked the bear one too many times and this time, I’m going to get what I asked for. Every slow, deliberate motion of his hands feels like a challenge, a silent dare that stops my breath.

I glare at him, the memory of last night replaying like a broken record. Close, he was so damn close to letting go, to admitting that he wanted me. I could feel it, almost taste the victory, the moment when he'd finally break.

But then came that guttural groan, a sound torn from the depths of his soul, as he pushed my hand away. His words, a mantra of restraint, echoed in my mind. "Not the right time," he’d said, shaking his head, his control a towering, unbreakable dam against the flood of desire flowing through our bond. He ordered me out, his eyes a turbulent sea of willpower and agony.

I almost had him. I'm no expert in sex, but I can sense when someone's about to crack. Or maybe I'm just fooling myself.

He methodically unties each knot as I turn these thoughts over, his eyes burning into mine, a fierce inferno barely contained.

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