Page 42 of The Devil We Crave
“That doesn’t bother me.”
I bark out a nervous laugh. “Well, maybe it bothersme. You look like a normal person and I’m sweating like a pig over here.”
A gasp catches in my throat as he takes a step closer.
“I truly don’t mind,” he murmurs, his dark eyes locking with mine. “And maybe I like you sweaty, and panting, slightly out of breath,” he says quietly.
My skin prickles and heat teases through me. The slithering thing inside me coils tighter in my core as I swallow heavily.
“Are you stalking me?”
Jesus God,whydid I just say that? Alone with him, at night, with woods on one side of us and a fuckingcliffon the other?
And the more pressing question, why do I actuallynotfeel like I’m in danger?
Achilles looks at me for a moment, his dark eyes unblinking.
“What’s your favorite sexual position?”
My jaw drops, and I blink in utter shock. “Excuse me?” I squeal.
He smirks. “Shall I repeat myself?”
“No!” I blurt, my face suddenly hot and tingling. “And I’m not telling you!”
“Hmm. In any case, I would call what I’m doingdigging, since you won’t tell me these things. But if you’d preferstalking, I’m fine with that word too.”
I stare at him. “Why would I tell you something like that?”
“Mine is generally from behind,” he says matter-of-factly. “But with you, I think I’d prefer you on your back, your legs around my waist, your arms bound over your head, and your tits jiggling as I impale you on my cock.”
My entireuniverseturns to liquid fire. It’s simultaneously the most offensively crude and single hottest thing anyone haseversaid to me, and it’s like my brain can’t figure out which side to focus on first.
“I—I—” Words fail me as I stare at him, my jaw still agape and my pulse thudding in my ears.
“Let’s try a different question,” he murmurs darkly, his eyes gleaming. “Did youjustcome out for a run to clear your head, orwas a small part of you hoping that if you did, maybe I’dchase youagain.”
The thing coiling inside me tightens and squeezes, turning my insides to jelly as I stare up into his gorgeous, nightmarish face.
But his question pulls at a thread I’ve been trying to ignore.
“W-who were you meant to meet that night at the party?” I ask hesitantly, not sure if I want to know the answer, and even less sure about why that is.
Achilles regards me for a moment.
“You, apparently,” he murmurs.
It’s not flirtation. It’s not him being smooth or suave. He just says it like he’s stating a fact, like telling me what the capital of Iowa is.
Heat blossoms in my face as a tingling sensation flickers over my skin.
“I’m serious,” I mumble.
Achilles cocks his head slightly to the side. ”So am I.”
Silence descends over us until all I can hear is the soft crash of the waves at the bottom of the cliffs and the dull, rhythmic thudding of my heart in my ears.
“I didn’t know about the additional stories on that building,” I blurt. “I mean, I don’t think my dad did, either. But I’m not involved with any of that?—”
