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His hand moves to my breast, and I arch into him, my breath leaving me.

“Gods, Callie,” he rasps, “the wait … nearly unendurable …”

Des’s wings materialize, spreading out and closing over the wall around me. While I kiss him, I begin to run my fingertips over them.

He groans, leaning into my touch. “Feels too good.”

He slips a hand beneath my shirt, and palms a breast, making really hot noises into my mouth as he acquaints himself with it.

My knees go weak at his touch, and he slips a leg between them, holding me up.

My skin begins to glow. I want to cry, this feels so right. Every one of his touches has felt right since the moment we met.

“Truth or dare?” he whispers.

Do I even care at this point?

“Truth,” I murmur against his lips, refusing to give into my baser impulses.

He pulls away from the kiss long enough to glance down at my swollen lips, a hungry look in his eye. “What did you miss the most about me while I was gone?” he asks.

I have to breathe several times to collect myself. His question is like cold water dousing a flame.

His magic encircles me, forcing the answer out. “Everything. I missed literally everything about you while you were gone.”

Des stares at me, his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. His hand slips out from beneath my shirt, and his knuckles stroke my cheek. “You don’t know what your words do to me.”

“I wish I did.” All this giving on my end, all of this taking on his. This isn’t what healthy relationships are made of.

He runs his fingers down my arms. “Stay, and I will tell you.”

What I would give for that! To know exactly how he feels for me. I almost fall for it, just as I have everything else about this man. I’m about to start nodding when I remember.

Des is a fairy, a trickster. He collects secrets for a living, he doesn’t give them up. And he’s never been open to me in the past. He’s not going to start tonight.

I made a promise to myself after Des left my life, a promise to be independent. To not allow men like him to destroy my world. And now the very man who forced me to make that promise wants to burrow his way under my skin and into my heart once more.

I’d be the worst sort of person if I broke that promise at the first sign of temptation.

I run my hands through my hair. What am I doing? Really,whatam I doing? I search the ground, as though it holds the answers. Then, letting my hands fall to my sides, I push past him.

It’s been a long fucking day. I want my comfy PJs, a bowl of cereal, and some trashy TV I can fall asleep to.

In front of me, the door to the guestroom slams shut.

… But apparently what I want isn’t going to be all that easy to get.

I turn, exasperated, only to yelp.

The Bargainer crowds me, looking like he’s about to rain retribution down on my ass.

“Don’t go,” he says. Even though he looks mad, his words are soft.

That in and of itself makes me hesitate.

So close to giving in.

“Why, Des?” My eyes move over his face. I can still taste him on my lips. “Why do you want me to stay so badly?”