His breath ghosts across my lips, warm and feverish. The scent of him, the delicate mix of man and perfume, something wild and dark and enticingly ancient wraps around my senses until I can barely think. The pulse at his throat is too fast, too loud.
"If you'd even bothered trying," he murmurs, voice dripping with pained sarcasm, "you'd have noticed the lack of guards. The unlocked doors." His nose grazes my ear as he speaks, as though he can't decide whether to sniff me or shove me away. "You could have walked out of this palace any night you wished."
His breath is hot against my neck. "But you won't leave, will you?"
Heat coils under my skin.
"You'll stay," he growls. "You'll linger. You'll provoke me. You'll run only so I will chase." His fingers flex against the desk. "You enjoy this. You enjoy me losing control. You enjoy peeling at my sanity like I'm one of your little puzzles."
