Des stays still, letting me trail kisses along the edge of his jaw.

Touching him, kissing him draws up goosebumps along my skin. It feels like there’s a storm on the horizon, something big and unstoppable that’s rolling in. Something that will sweep us away. And dear God, I want to be swept away.

The Bargainer’s magic continues to press against my skin. I nip his ear, earning a low noise from Des. My mouth moves down the strong column of his throat, the siren awakening within me. Dragging the collar of his T-shirt down, I touch my tongue to the hollow at the base of his throat.

The magic dissipates.

I blink several times, as if waking from a dream. My mouth still hovers right over his skin. With effort, I straighten, releasing his shirt.

“You’ve always wanted to do that to me?” Des asks gruffly.

Shaking off the last of my daze, I nod. His brows are pinched together, his mouth stern.

“Since I was sixteen.”

Back then I’d wanted to kiss him along his jaw and neck because it seemed romantic, erotic. To a teenage girl who wanted a relationship but was afraid of sex, kissing a man there seemed like a good compromise.

Des covers my hand with his, holding it against his neck, his nostrils flaring with some strong emotion.

“Do it again,” he says.

My eyebrows rise. So it wasn’t all just in my head? Des felt that spark between us too?

I slip my hand from his to tilt his jaw to me. Once more my lips skim his skin.

He’d agonized over our time apart.

He called it a nightmare. And I believe him.

But where does that leave us? What does any of it mean?

My mouth moves down his neck once more.

Des holds himself so still, like the slightest movement will scare me off. And now I wonder for the first time if he’s ever been insecure about my feelings for him. I assumed they were always obvious, but it’s like the two of us have held ourselves back from making that move that will expose our true feelings. I’d always assumed it was because he felt none for me. I’m no longer sure that’s true.

My thumb strokes the skin of his cheek as I kiss him.

And now we’re afraid of each other. That’s what the two of us are. Afraid of hoping when all hope’s ever done is break us. Afraid of getting exactly what we want.

And I might be wrong, Des might actually be uninterested in me despite all the signs. But I’m going to stop denying the possibility. And I’m going to stop denying my own feelings.

So after I finish kissing his throat, my hands reach for the edge of his shirt.

The Bargainer’s hands grip my upper arms, and I can feel his heated, curious gaze on me, but I ignore it.

Don’t overthink this.

I lift his shirt up, breaking away only to help him take it off.

My gaze moves to his sculpted chest. I run my fingers over his shoulder, where his tattoos taper off. His muscles flex beneath my touch.

I smooth my hands over his pecs and down his hard abs. I was wrong earlier when I said that he hadn’t changed. When I was a teenager, he would’ve never let me touch him like this.

I press my lips between his collarbones and begin trailing kisses down his sternum.

I risk a glance up at him.

Des is looking at me … he’s looking at me like I personally put up all the stars in the sky. A second later, he shutters the look.

“Callie …”

Around us, the room’s darkening. How much farther can he be pushed before his wings come out?

Better question: how much farther can I push this until the siren comes out? Already I can feel her demanding to join in. She’ll either speed us the hell up, or she’ll make good on her earlier threat to hold out on Des.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I breathe.

“I’m afraid that if I do anything, you’ll stop.” I see him swallow. “I don’t want you to stop.”

I pause to give him a shy smile, a genuine one. “I won’t,” I say, punctuating my words by pressing a kiss to his sternum.

He hisses out a breath. “You keep doing that and I’m going to cash in more favors.”

My skin lights up. The wicked grin that spreads across my mouth is all siren. “Tell me,” I say, glamour entering my voice, “have you been thinking about what I told you earlier?”

I play with the top button of Des’s pants, running a hand over his groin.

“About all those dark desires I would’ve gladly fulfilled,” I continue.

“I’ve thought about it,” he admits. He caresses my face, some of the passion in his eyes changing into something … sweeter. “I’m sorry, siren. I had to leave you, I didn’t want to.”

I frown as I unbutton the top of his pants, the siren in me not entirely sure what to make of his words. The rest of me knows he’s being genuine.

He really didn’t want to leave me.

That changes everything.

He catches my hand just as I begin to tug his pants down. “Not like this,” he says quietly.

“Still holding out on me?” I say.

“Still holding out for you,” he corrects. His thumb brushes against my cheekbone.

His words are another blow to those walls of mine. He’s mercilessly ripping them down.

“Now,” he continues, “it’s my turn, cherub, to do something with you that I’ve always wanted to,” he says.

My skin brightens at that.

He picks me up and, still shirtless, carries me through his house. I resume kissing the underside of his jaw, the siren in me eager. So, so eager.