Page 11 of The Villain We Tempt

I can feel myself blushing as The Ghost Prince looks right at me through his blank black eyeholes. He lifts his hand once more, and I shiver at the throb of heat that tugs at my core when he crooks his fingers again.

Then I start to crawl.

There’s a big Persian rug on the floor, soft under my palms and knees as I slowly make my way toward him. My hair, which was up in a messy knot under my Villainess wig, comes undone and falls around my face as I advance half-naked across the floor to the masked man with the muscles and tattoos and chilling aura sitting in the chair, never taking his eyes off me.

I stop when I’m looking at his combat boots and the hem of his black jeans.

“Stand.”

I shiver as I look up at him, my eyes wide and my face somehow hot and cold at the same time, like the battle between heated mortification and chilling fear hasn’t been won yet.

“It would be in your best interests to do as I say,” the mechanical voice drones. “So be a good girl andstand, little villain.”

I take a shaky breath and slowly get to my feet. It takes all my willpower not to cover my breasts in front of him.

It occurs to me just before he tells me to turn around and face away from him: I’ve never been this unclothed in front of a man before. After I turn, I tremble when I feel his gaze drag slowly over my bare back to the microscopic leather skirt barely covering my ass.

“I didn’t notice you putting anythingonafter you took off your panties earlier.”

Heat floods my face, even as that darkness coils in my core, ready to strike.

“Have a seat, little villain.”

It's a battle to stop myself from shivering right in front of him.

“W-where?” I say, my voice breathy in a way I didn’t expect. It’s not terrified like I thought it would be when I opened my mouth.

“I’ll show you.”

This time, I do shiver when the words tease against the small of my back. He’s mere inches away.

“I’m going to put my hands on you now.”

The way he warns me before he actually touches me is…

Well, I want to say “comforting”. But that suggests that I’m currentlyuncomfortable.

…And I’m not.

Nervous? Yes. A little scared? Also yes. But at least half of that fear is stemming from menotbeing as terrified as I really should be in this situation. Maybe it’s because he’s obviously been here since I first walked in and hasn’t done anything to me yet. He could have grabbed me the second I came in, or after I locked the door. Or while I was naked.

Even now, standing right here clearly within his grasp, he doesn’t have toask meto do anything. He doesn’t have to “warn me” that he’s about to touch me. I’ve watched a thousand videos of this man. He’shugeand built entirely of pure muscle. I’ve seen videos where he walks through a doorway and the top of his head almost brushes the doorframe.

Me, I’m five foot four.

There is literallynothingI could do to stop him from doing anything he wanted, and we both know it.

And yet, here he is, warning me that he’s about to put his hands on me. I realize there’s a difference between telling and asking, and that this is the former.

But still, it feels…nice, in a weird way?…that he does.

My body jolts when I feel his big, strong hands wrap around my hips. Heat flickers through my core, and I bite down on my bottom lip as I feel his warm fingers tighten on my bare skin.

He pulls me back to him, and my breath comes out in a faltering rush as I feel him bring me down onto his lap, settling my ass against the rock-hard muscles of one his thighs.

I’m shaking.

I can’t help it. I also can’t stop it. But then his hands tighten on my hips, like a firm, grounding squeeze.