asts, and beautiful skin. The bottom hugged her waist just above her belly button, and every curve—the mound of her breasts to the swoop running down to her hip—was like someone squeezing my lungs.
“Shit.” I locked eyes on her and lunged.
She yelped, darting into a row of pews and leaping three rows down before I could get to her. I laughed.
Whipping around, she held my eyes, fire flowing between us, and I placed my hands on the back of the pew in front of me as she stood rigid and waited.
“You have good taste,” I teased. “I’m surprised.”
“Will picked it out.”
My smirk fell. “Did he see you in it?”
She nodded, looking all too pleased to admit that. “He even got my underwear size correct. Although I don’t think there’s really enough fabric there to call a G-string ‘underwear’.”
That motherfucker! I leapt over the pew, and she ran down the row, back into the aisle. I followed, chasing her and watching as the hat fell off her head and her hair came tumbling down, swaying as she tried to escape.
I caught the back of her jacket, pulling her into me and then pushing her into the wall of the confessional, pressing my body to hers. God, I could feel her now. The binding on her breasts was gone, and she was soft everywhere.
Threading my fingers through the back of her hair, I lightly pulled, forcing her chin up and her eyes on me.
“You’re such a brat, you know that?” I said. “I might spank you if I didn’t think you’d ask for seconds just to piss me off.”
“I’ll never behave for you.”
“Is that so?”
She leaned in, whispering over my mouth. “You’re not scary without your mask, Kai Mori.”
I tightened my fist in her hair, and she grunted, arching up on her toes to relieve the pressure.
I wasn’t scary? Meaning I didn’t intimidate her in the least.
Dammit, she was a handful. Constantly pushing me, her fucking pride not willing to acquiesce an inch.
I bared my teeth, speaking low as I pulled her closer. “You got quite a mouth on you on top of the trouble you’re already in for fighting today.”
I heard her swallow as she stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“I think you need to.” I pulled my head back up, looking down at her. Anger deepened the crease between her eyes, and I could tell she wasn’t playing anymore.
I grabbed her by the jacket again and pulled her around the confessional.
“What are you—”
“We need to go someplace we can really talk,” I told her, forcing her through the door.
My foot hit the kneeler, but there was also a wooden chair, and I pulled the door closed, sitting down in it and bringing her into my lap.
“Just let me go.”
“No.”
“No?” she burst out.
The room was pitch black, and I could barely even make out her shadow, let alone any colors. A small bit of light breached the wicker screen and a little more through the cracks in the door, but other than that, we were hidden from the world.
Again.