“I am, as you’re the cure to mine. Every curse includes a way to neutralize it,” he explained, pulling one arm out of the dress shirt to reveal both nipples pierced, his name covering his forearm and his family crest on his abdomen.
He adjusted in his chair, smiling as he watched me feasting on his ink from beneath my lashes. I pretended that I was anywhere other than his lap. Rhys moved again, and the motion forced me forward, causing my hands to rest on his chest. My fingers brushed against his piercings, and I shivered against the call of Silversmith silver that he wore brazenly. Heat banked in his pretty stare as he hissed under my touch.
“What are you doing to me?” I asked, knowing something was happening.
“Getting answers,” he admitted, moving his hands around my narrow waist, pulling me closer. “I’m an incubus demon, after all. You should know that, Silversmith, since your family is the one who cursed me to be this monster.”
“I don’t know much about that yet,” I admitted, turning to look at the whiskey, which would calm the raging inferno within me. “If you plan to interrogate me, you should pour me another drink, Van Helsing.”
Chapter Five
He didn’t get up to pour more whiskey, choosing to wrap his arms around me as he did the task instead. It was the most awkward and most uncomfortable thing in my entire life to pretend that I wasn’t affected by his half-naked body, while literally holding on to it so that I didn’t end up on my ass on the floor again.
“How long are you affected by the curse?” Rhys asked casually.
“Shouldn’t you know that answer?”
“The more powerful the Silversmith witch, the more powerful the curse.”
“So what you’re really asking me, Van Helsing, is how powerful am I?” I watched his lips twitch before he stopped them by biting his bottom lip, which was sexy. “Very powerful is the answer to the question you are asking.” My hand lifted the plastic cup, downing the whiskey like a frat boy trying to impress the brotherhood of idiots he wanted to join. I smiled at the look of disapproval Rhys offered in rebuke.
“Fifty-year-old Irish whiskey that cost forty-thousand dollars a bottle should be savored, Silversmith,” he grumbled, bringing his to his nose to sniff while staring at me over the rim of the crystal glass.
“Why the hell would anyone pay forty-thousand dollars for whiskey?” I asked crossly.
“Because I can?” he countered, sipping the drink slowly. A smile curved his generous mouth as I watched him drinking it slowly. “Who is your mother?”
“Superwoman,” I supplied, giving him a half-hearted smile before wiggling my brows.
He tipped back his cup, reaching past me to place it on the damaged table. Wrapping his arm around my back, he pulled me closer to him. His eyes slowly surveyed my face before he dipped his mouth to mine, softly claiming my lips. I brought my hands flat against his chest, trying to remember why this was a bad idea.
The moment his mouth touched mine, all coherent thought left my mind, replaced with need. A groan escaped his lips as my mouth captured it, swallowing it like the whiskey. My fingers ran through his inky dark hair as my tongue pushed past his lips, dueling against his in an ageless dance. My hips rolled, inviting him to do more, which he didn’t seem to understand.
One moment led my utter ruin in a charge of sexual tension, and the next, he took control, exerting dominance. His fingers trailed through my hair, controlling my head as he turned it to allow better access to devour me. My hands lowered to his shoulders, unable to touch his flesh enough as I continually rocked against him, moaning unsexy noises like a bitch in heat as he claimed my mouth in a toe-curling kiss.
He pulled away, and my mouth chased his, needing him to continue what he’d started. Or maybe I had started it? Who cared? I felt his mouth twisting into a smile as his hand tightened in my hair, wrenching my head back, exposing my throat.
“Who is your mother?” he asked, and my nose wrinkled up.
“Who cares?” I whispered, listening to his husky laughter.
The music of his deep, rich laughter filled the room, slithering up my flesh as his other hand slipped under the shirt I wore. Pleasure swept over me, and I moaned unabashedly as my body tightened with desire