King of Pride (Kings of Sin #2) by Ana Huang

“And me,” I said softly, turning to face him.

Kai paused. “And you.”

The words sank so deep into my skin my breath couldn’t find its way around them. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell someone?”

He leaned against the wall, the picture of casual elegance, his eyes never leaving mine. “Will you?”

I held his gaze for a moment before giving my head a slow shake. My nerves buzzed like live wires in the rain, scattering sparks of awareness through my body.

Two people. A secret room.

Our presence here seemed painfully intimate, like a pair of star-crossed lovers’ last rendezvous or a forbidden glimpse inside someone’s diary.

A smile ghosted Kai’s mouth. “The room isn’t a treasure trove. There are no priceless artifacts or stores of gold here. But if you wanted a quiet place to write…”

The sparks of awareness melted into a golden, honeyed warmth.

I didn’t work well in silence. My doubts and second-guessing festered in the absence of company, growing claws and fangs that shredded my creativity into ribbons.

But Kai’s gesture was so thoughtful I didn’t have the heart to tell him, so I simply smiled through the blossoming ache in my chest.

“Thank you. This is…” I faltered, unsure how to express the emotions sweeping through me. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something so considerate for me without expecting anything in return. Not when it came to my writing, which even my friends sometimes treated as a hobby more than anything else. “This is amazing.”

The warmth of his attention settled on my back as I walked through the room, taking in the details, the decor, and the different titles on the shelves. To my surprise, they weren’t limited to the classics. There were children’s books, academic texts, romance novels and fantasy doorstoppers. Dostoyevsky and Austen sat next to Chinese classics such as Journey to the West and Dream of the Red Chamber; Neil Gaiman and George R. R. Martin occupied the shelf below Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary. The eclectic collection spanned an impressive range of cultures, genres, and eras.

“We’re missing dinosaur erotica,” Kai said with a completely straight face. “I’ll have to remedy that oversight soon. If you have any recommendations, feel free to send them to me.”

I shot him a narrow-eyed glance. “You like poking fun at me, don’t you?” I accused over a bubble of suppressed laughter.

Another ghost of a smile, followed by a wicked gleam that had my pulse skyrocketing.

“Do I look like someone who would do such a thing?” Kai pushed off the wall and walked toward me, his stride easy but powerful, like a panther leisurely contemplating its next move.

The space between us collapsed, as did any glimmer of levity when he stopped in front of me. His body heat was a living, breathing thing, clouding my mind and stealing my focus until my world consisted of nothing except dark eyes, soft wool, and the clean, expensive scent of citrus and wood.

Goose bumps rose on my sensitized skin.

“You’re right. You and fun don’t belong in the same sentence,” I managed. My head swam like I’d been downing drinks all night instead of serving them. “I can’t recommend any of the books I read to you. They’re too wild. You might go into cardiac shock.”

Kai regarded me with a lazy, dangerous amusement that I felt all the way to my toes.

“Do you think I’m boring, Isabella?” The question came out soft. Dark. Suggestive, like he was ruminating over all the ways he could prove me wrong. It trailed down my spine and left delicious little bursts of electricity in its wake.

The air shifted and thickened. Every tick of the clock pounded in rhythm with my heart, dragging me closer toward the precipice of no return.

I shook my head, attempting to form a coherent response. “You said it. Not me.”

My voice didn’t sound like mine. It was too thin, too breathless, but Kai’s proximity had snuffed out the oxygen in the room. I couldn’t breathe fast enough or deeply enough to sustain a clear head.

“I see,” he murmured. “I don’t suppose I can change your mind.” Gone were the crisp edges and formal syllables. In their place were velvet and smoke, whispering silent promises against my skin and compelling me to tilt my face up. Just a fraction, just enough to meet his gaze full on and see the heat glinting beneath pools of dusky clarity.

Heaviness gathered low in my belly, thick and molten.

I shouldn’t be here. Not with him, and not like this. But I was intoxicated, and he was beautiful, and the world had blurred into a lovely, hazy dream I didn’t want to wake up from.

Would it be so bad to indulge myself once after years of abstinence? To see whether that stern, sculpted mouth would soften into something more sensual when pressed against mine?

My lips parted. Kai’s eyes dropped, and time slowed as it always did when we were alone.

I didn’t resist the downward drift of my eyelids. My body pulled taut with anticipation for the moment when I’d find out if that glacial sophistication would melt with a kiss.

But the moment never came.

I heard a low curse. Then the delicious cocoon of warmth vanished, replaced with a sharp breeze of air. Coldness bathed my arms and chest.

By the time my eyes flew open, the bookcase had already swung shut behind him.