His words infuriate me, and somehow also turn me on. No man has ever talked about owning my pussy or pleasure like that.
“You don’t own me,” I whisper—not terrified, but not strong enough to say the words so loudly. Not because I’m scared of Zeke, but because on some level, I want a man to lay claim to my body. I want to be controlled. I’m tired of having to do every-fucking-thing for myself. I want a man who can make me come better than I can.
Zeke leans forward until his mouth is against my ear. “No, Siren, maybe I don’t. Because to truly own someone, the other person has to willingly give himself back. But soon, I will. Because you are on the verge of giving me everything.”
He sits back. And once again, I’m left speechless.
“So, how does this silly game of yours work?” I ask, clearing my throat.
He sits back on his heels. “I ask you a question. You tell the truth. And if you don’t want to answer, you have to let me commit a sin against you.”
“And what about me? Do I get to ask a question? Do I get to commit a sin if you don’t answer?”
“Yes,” he answers, surprising the hell out of me. I assumed this would be one-sided. But this might be exactly what I need to be able to get my own answers.
“And if we choose to answer the question, how do we know we are both telling the truth?”
He lets out a breathy growl as if the question I asked is ridiculous. “We both know the answer to that.”
I run my hand through my long hair, wishing Zeke would do the same—come unhinged a little, let his hair down, and stop controlling my every thought. But he doesn’t. His hair stays high up on his head, locked away with a black scrunchie.
“You told me you can’t lie. And I believe you.”
“I can too lie…I um…fuck,” I breathe, not even being able to lie about lying.
He smirks. “See? You can’t lie.”
Now it’s my turn to growl.
He smiles in a charming, bright way—fucking asshole.
“Fine, but someday, I might figure out how to lie and how will you be able to hold me accountable?”
He leans forward again. “Because if you find a way to lie with your words, your body will betray you. Your cheeks will shade just the slightest darker pink. More blood will flow to your lips until they are as red as a poisoned apple. Your eyes will dilate. You’ll fidget just the tiniest bit more. And your body will melt under my scrutiny.”
As he speaks, everything he says happens to my body. How can he control me that much?
“And how will I know you aren’t lying? You’ve already lied to me.”
“And you figured out I was lying within an hour of me being gone.”
“So? I don’t expect our game to last an entire hour.”
“I suspect you are a fast learner.”
I laugh. “I’m really not. I’m the worst learner. It takes me forever to master a skill. I have to put in way more than my ten thousand hours to learn something. But once I master it, I never forget. I don’t have to practice anymore.” Why the fuck am I telling him this much about myself? I’m just willingly spilling all of my secrets.
His eyes widen at my admission.
I clamp my mouth shut to keep from admitting any more stupid secrets.
“I grew up in New Orleans. My mother is in prison; my father died when I was five. I worked as a mechanic for a few years in my early teens. I met my first girlfriend in college at the University of Texas. I studied biology, but never finished my degree.”
My mouth slowly unclamps at each of his admissions—wow.
“Did I speak the truth?” he asks.
I think back to how he delivered each sentence. I close my eyes, trying to remember every syllable he spoke, the inflection, and any clues his body gave away. Most people would have said there were no clues—nothing to give away if he spoke the truth or not. He delivered his words with the same calm stillness he does everything else with.
No—he didn’t tell the truth.
When he is speaking the truth, he is passionate about what he says, and his voice is husky and intoxicating. My body would follow any command he’d give. I could listen to Zeke talk all damn day.
His voice was still deep and sexy, but it was slightly different. If he spoke a command in that voice, I wouldn’t have had to listen to his order unless I wanted to.
His body was more tense than still.
His eyes glazed over just a little, trying to hide the truth.
“You lied,” I say.
“How did you know?”
I shake my head with a light smile. “I’m not telling you my secrets.”
He narrows his eyes in a scowl, which only brightens my smile.
“Fine, don’t tell me what my tells are. But you trust that you will be able to tell when I’m lying?”
“Yes.”
“And if either of us is caught lying to the other, then he, or she, gets to commit the ultimate sin.”
I swallow the lump down. I don’t have to ask what he means by ‘ultimate sin.’ There is one universal sin that all people, animals, and culture believe is the worst—murder. If I lie, and he catches me, then he will kill me. If he lies, I kill him.
These are the ultimate stakes. The highest bet either of us can put on the table. But we both want each other’s secrets.
Zeke wants to know about my relationship with Julian, while I need Zeke’s secrets to use against him and free myself.
We are both willing to risk everything for the truth.
I nod, silently agreeing to his terms.
Most men would want to hear my words, not Zeke. All forms of communication are equal in his book.
“We can only play max once a day,” Zeke says.
I agree. I don’t like endless prodding and questions about my life.
“Follow up questions have to be asked the next day.”
I nod.
“And you don’t have to reveal anything other than the basic answer to the question. Elaboration happens with further questions.”
Again I nod, agreeing. I will have to be careful with how I ask my questions to get the most answers from Zeke, while trying to keep my big mouth shut. Zeke is clearly used to keeping his answers simple, so I doubt I’ll get more than one sentence. He might even try to answer me with a single word if I’m not careful.
“You first,” I say, assuming he will ask me about Julian, and I’m not sure if I’ll answer or choose sin. I don’t want to talk about Julian, but I don’t want to let Zeke commit a sin against me. He could choose anything from kissing to raping me—anything but killing me.
And I have no idea what question I’ll ask him.
Zeke licks his lips, and my eyes are glued to his sensual mouth and rough five o’clock shadow darkening his square jaw.
“Do you find me attractive?” Zeke asks.
“What?” I gape.
He reaches up to his head, and pulls the scrunchie from his head and puts it on his wrist. His hair falls down, making him look like the human prince from Beauty and the Beast.
I can’t blink, I can’t breathe, I can’t speak. My body is beyond attracted to him. He already knows that. I may hate how my body reacts to his, but it’s not something he has to ask me to know it to be true. If this is the question he’s asking me, it’s a waste of a question.