Eyes obscured, he fights for use of his arms and smacks his own glasses askew when I yank his shirt back down. “Lie still!” I command. “I deserve to win this.”
“You deserve tapeworms.” His face is red and he’s struggling more than he’d like to admit. I feel a rush of power to know that I’m actually a decent foe here.
“You bumped me into the wall on purpose.”
“I did not, you little goblin.” I bounce up and down, which makes him wince. “You’re not a goblin, actually. You’re a changeling. You’ve taken over the body of that nice girl I met.”
“Her name was Naomi, wasn’t it?” I say, tilting my head. “Too bad for her.”
“Yes. Too bad for us both.”
“You’ll never see her again.” I shift for better purchase on his squirming lap, and a jolt of surprise electrifies me when I discover he’s hard.
All the air punches from my lungs as I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, why?”
His cheekbones burn. “Your top is low and you’re writhing all over me. What do you expect?”
I expect him to be single-minded in his quest to end me, is what I expect. I’m amazed by man’s ability to think about vengeance and penis contact at the same time. What I’ve been regarding as a savage WrestleMania showdown has been more like foreplay for Nicholas. I should have known. Men are trash.
The harder I laugh, the more I unintentionally rub on him, and the further into darkness his eyes slip. He’s incredibly turned on and absolutely furious about it. At this moment, I have more control over his body than he does. The delicious power trip goes straight to my head.
His hands shoot out and catch me in the ribs. I have approximately one second to wonder if he’s going to kiss me or kill me when he draws a wild card and starts tickling me. My hands are still around his throat, but when he tickles all my weak spots it’s like pressing an eject button. I flop over onto my side, flailing uncontrollably.
“Ahh, stop!” I gasp. “I’m very ticklish!”
“Are you? I couldn’t tell.” He’s getting back at me for making him horny and embarrassed.
I kick his shin and wriggle away, making a break for my phone. He seizes my ankle and pulls me back, but the smooth motion of gliding across the floor against my will is like an amusement park ride and instead of irritating me it just makes me laugh.
The laugh dies when Nicholas pins me. His hair’s hanging down on either side of my face, breath fanning over my lips. He holds very still, just watching, closer than he’s been to me in ages. My body remembers him and shivers.
His eyes are so black, I think I can see hell in them. For someone whose gaze has the power to compress souls into diamonds and diamonds into dust, I know he’d taste like spun sugar if I licked across his tongue. He’s the poster boy for high-fructose corn syrup and I want to take a bite out of him. Peel off his shiny wrapper. Count how many of my teeth marks I find beneath.
The air is mountaintop-thin. “You’re a demon,” I tell him.
“And you’ve been a ghost,” he breathes. I need the upper hand here, but I’m smaller than Nicholas. I use one of the only weapons at my disposal: surprise.
I reach between his legs and give him a firm, not unpleasant squeeze. His eyes widen, and the involuntary reaction of pupil dilation is mesmerizing. In the time it takes him to blink, a galaxy of colors dances across his irises: jade and brown and every flavor of blue, from summer rain to the midnight flash of moonlight on ocean waves.
I’ve got him on his back before he can register what’s happened. “This is your downfall, right here,” I say tauntingly. I squeeze my thighs on either side of him and he bites his lip. “You’re supposed to be pissed off, not turned on.”
“I can be both. You’re not the boss of me.”
“I could get used to this Nicholas,” I say, toying with him. “You’re actually present.” Unlike the way he was the last few times we slept together, barely looking at me. He hates how excited he is right now and can’t figure out which emotion he wants to let lead the charge. For logical, practical Nicholas who must keep his head in every situation, lust is terrifying.
“I’m always present,” he bites out. “You’re the one who’s never present.”
I ignore him, stroking his cheek. The atmosphere quivers, stretched so tight I could tap thin air and hear the resounding thump of a bass drum.
“You feel alive,” I say. I lay my palm over his pounding heart. “Yes, very alive, like a real human man. I wouldn’t have known it, since you never touch me. Have you forgotten how?”
He cups a palm around the back of my neck and simply rests it there, reminding me he could change the score at any moment if he wished it.
“Tell me you’re sorry and I’ll let you find out.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Your half.” His chest rises and falls deeply. I recognize all the signs, but it’s as if they’re from another life, they’ve been lying dormant for so long. I keep finding myself wondering, When’s the last time I saw this Nicholas? because I’m forgetting that this Nicholas is new to me. He’s uncharted territory. I want to explore the parts that are a surprise and punish him for the reincarnated parts he’s trying to bring with him from his old life with the old Naomi. They don’t belong here.
“My half,” I repeat, sitting up straighter. I feel him beneath me and it’s been so long; anything we’ve done in the last few months doesn’t count. The last time we had sex, the space between us was dead air, unbroken by any emotion whatsoever—not love, not attraction, not tension. Right now, two out of three ain’t bad. My body wants to trickle into liquid and spill forth all over him, but I venture to say, “Half of what?”
“Of what went wrong.”
I swallow. It feels like someone’s scratched my throat with talons. “We were never right to begin with.”
He arches a brow. “No?”
“No. Changeling Naomi is the same person as First Date Naomi, just with all the shiny new penny rubbed off. We got too used to the best version of each other, so neither of us ever got to relax and show our normal selves. We’ve been hiding.”
He stares up at me from the floor. He’s slack-jawed but his muscles are strung tight. When he finally speaks, what he says catches me off-guard. “Who texted your phone?”
Before I can answer, he gently places a hand over my mouth. His skin is warm and smells like my conditioner. It’s been a long time since he’s slipped his fingers through my hair long enough for the scent to wear off on him. It’s been a lifetime since we’ve smelled or tasted like each other. Been hungry for each other.
“Tell me, please?” His voice is velvety and compelling. Dangerous. “Be honest and you can have whatever you want.”
He lets his hand fall from my mouth. I’m reeling. I think he might be laying a trap. Either that or I’m paranoid after laying so many traps of my own. Traps are all I see now.
“No one texted me. Who would? The only ones who text me are you and Brandy, and Brandy’s busy with orientation at her new job.”
“Can I see your phone, then?”