Page 114 of Scarlet Wars
Every inch of me was tuned to him, trembling on the edge of unraveling.
I should’ve stopped it, but a godsdamn hurricane couldn’t have dragged me away.
Still, my idiot brain refused to be anything less than defiant. I lifted my chin, forcing steel into my spine, as I met his gaze head-on. “You think you’re such a gift to women. You might have every single one of them in this Collective begging for your attention, but trust me, Colt, I am not one of them.”
His mouth curved, but there was nothing kind about it. His eyes narrowed, the fire in them turning predatory. “Is that so?”
I swallowed hard and gave a sharp nod.
Caden leaned in closer, like a wolf testing distance. “Then maybe,” he murmured, voice low enough to scrape against my skin, “we should test that theory.”
“Let’s see…” His breath brushed my ear, “…if I can make youbeg.”
I didn’t answer, mostly because I didn’t trust a single word that might come out of my mouth. My tongue felt thick, my thoughts fractured. Every instinct screamed to run, but I stayed rooted, burning to find out what the hell he’d do next.
His nose skimmed the curve of my throat, drawing a shiver from a place I didn’t know was still alive. He inhaled, lips ghosting over my skin.
“Do you have any idea,” he murmured, “how insane that scent of yours drives me?”
My breath hitched. His didn’t.
“Do you have any idea,” he went on still as rough, “what you wearing a dress like this does to me?”
My nails were biting into my palms. He was too close, far too close—and he kept coming.
“You think I don’t see it?” His breath slid down the line of my jaw. “The way you look at me with those big, blue,hungryeyes?”
My chest stuttered on a breath.
“You think I can’t see those pupils dilate every time I get close?”
His thumb brushed—not touching my mouth, but hovering—so close it felt like contact.
“That bottom lip you wet every time you think I’m not watching…”
My stomach flipped, traitorous and obvious.
He dipped his head. “You think I can’t smell your arousal right now?”
My knees almost buckled.
“And you still want to tell me,” he murmured, lips a whisper from mine, “you don’t want me?”
And then…his leg slid between mine, the rough fabric of his pants grazing the soaked ache between my thighs—so close it was torture—only an inch below where I needed it.
It was an invitation. A challenge.
A godsdamn cliff I wasn’t supposed to jump from.
Don’t move.
That was the order my brain tried to give.
But I could feel my heartbeat pulsing low, a desperate, traitorous throb that answered him before I could even think. My body wasn’t listening to my mind, not even pretending to.
Because Iwantedhim.
And the way he stood there—breathing me in like I was something he’d been starving for—made resistance feel like a lie I was too tired to keep telling.
