Page 67 of The Commons

“I seem to be stable just fine right here.”

“Are you?”

Shockingly, I am. It’s hard to comprehend how he is able to keep me up like I am weightless. I inhale a heated breath as his fiery hands press deeper, gliding up and down my left thigh now. “You fall way too easily. Strengthening your quadriceps will help you sprawl against takedowns, keep you upright under impact, and when you do fall, it’ll help you stand up faster. Capiche?”

I nod. “Capiche.”

It’s actually nice what he’s doing to my thighs that were previously burning, considering how he whooped me. The way he touches me feels so dangerously safe. I feel so safe with him, even while pinned down. It’s so hard for me to resist, but I say, “It’s gonna be dark soon. Are you really not gonna let me go unless I yield?”

“Shut up,” he commands—so deep, so raw, breathing on me with his vigor. “Yes or no?” he now asks in a voice so stern, I’m almost tempted to retort.

“I thought you told me to shut up.”

“Five seconds. Four. Three. Two⁠—”

“Yes, okay. Yes.” Crap—he’s good.

And then… he does it.

His tongue grabs a hold of my neck, sending me into euphoria. I close my eyes as his tongue continues to trace the lines of my neck, claiming every inch of it for his mouth. He tightens his hold on my hands as if to remind me of what I already know—that I can’t escape. Of what he knows—that I don’t want to escape. He’s still sucking my neck. And it’s so addicting. His tongue is like a warm fire, gently warming every part of me. I’m beginning to think this guy can read my mind because he doesn’t stop sucking my neck.

But I can’t help myself. Anything to interrupt the drug. “Is this part of the common rules of fighting? Jab, slide, lick?

“Kick.” He drops me back to the floor, returning me back to the training at hand.

“What was that?” I stumble on my words. “Some kind of healing portion or something?”

“Yeah… whatever you tell yourself, Tavia,” he says with a smile.

“Normal people don’t lick their trainee’s neck!” I retort, hoping to put him in a corner, the way he has me.

“Normal people don’t stay for their necks to be licked. After their aye, es, es, has been whooped,” he states, using common society code words. Words used in place of curse words among the Common Elite. There’s others. I don’t know many.

But. Yep. I’m the one still in a corner, but I try again.

“I don’t speak in common code.” I flash him a smile.

A smile shines through his eyes. A beautifully smug smile. Urgh. I hate it. I hate how hot it is. A frown flares across my eyes, reminding me of what he just said—he whopped my butt. I guess I can admit that, not without an attitude though. “I’d hardly call that a whooping. You didn’t even try.”

“You’re right. You whooped your own butt by your stubbornness, and not listening to a word I said.”

“You barely gave me the space to think, let alone listen.”

“Once again, you listen with your…” He licks my neck near my ears. “Not with your… mind.”

Mmm... what does that even mean?

“Do you yield now?” he asks again, drawing closer.

“I… I…” I imagine it, his tongue diving into mine, utterly tying it down, rampaging through it like he owns me with that cocky, addictive mouth of his. I wish I could have it, but I can’t. I can’t.

I want to win. So, I change tactics.

I feign a moan, arching closer. “Pesh! My hands… my hands hurt.” That’s not a complete lie. He suddenly blinks as though in slow motion and something in him seems to soften? Awaken? I’m not sure, I just know his thumb drifts over my wrists, so softly, so gently.

His gaze doesn’t leave mine, and his breathing steadies. Every part of him is still, as the sound of the wind brushes past his exhale. I was screaming on the floor when he was fighting me, and he just kicked me more. Now, I say my wrists hurt, and he’s staring at me like I’m a puppy. Is this all it takes to still the great Patron Pesh or what? I want to smile, but I don’t.

For a second, I am almost hypnotized by his tempting gaze, then I snap out of it (unbeknownst to him) knowing if I stare a second more, he might anticipate my next move.