Free Flesh 02 Skin by Kylie Scott Page A

bad thoughts.”
    She tensed. “No, I’m not.”
    “What did I say about lying?”
    “You’re not a mind reader, Nick. Don’t pretend. You’re simply not that special.”
    “Ouch,” he mumbled, shuffling closer. “I’ve decided what I want for letting you come outside without the chain on.”
    “What!”
    “You know me, Roslyn. I don’t do things for free.” His smile was hard and his eyes intent. It was his bastard face. Long, thick, dirty fingers splayed out over his jean-clad thigh. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I want?”
    “No.”
    “Come on, you’re curious about everything. Aren’t you dying to know what’s on my mind?”
    “I don’t need to be a mind reader to figure that one out.”
    He snorted. “Why don’t I save you the trouble and tell you. I want a kiss.”
    Her eyebrows felt ready to part from her face. “NO.”
    “Yes.” He stared at her, his jaw set. “Just one kiss. Pretty reasonable of me, really.”
    “I don’t want to kiss you.”
    “A small, harmless peck on the lips.”
    “You’d have to force me, Nick,” she sneered. “Now where would the fun be in that?”
    He licked his lips and grinned, apparently pleased by her vehemence. Though it was unlikely he even knew the word. “I don’t have to force you. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
    “Like I think you’re a sociopathic, misogynistic, kidnapping cretin?”
    “Like I’m a man you’re attracted to.”
    Like hell. “I prefer my version,” she said.
    “I’m sure you do. But you’re still going to give me that kiss.” And he looked awful damn sure of himself.
    Fuck him. She bared her teeth. “You’re insane. Better yet, you’re projecting. Do you know what that is, or shall I explain it to you?”
    “I think I can figure it out.” The bastard actually winked at her.
    “Bright boy. The summation of it is this: I do not want to kiss you.”
    “You mean you don’t want to want to kiss me. There’s a difference.” The corners of his mouth curled upward. What she wouldn’t give to wipe the smirk off his face with the flat of her hand. “Would you like me to explain what that is, sweet?” he asked.
    She held in the snarl of rage. Just. Her hands clenched into tight fists. It made the bruises from decking Neil ache. “You’re full of shit and I have no interest in touching you, kissing you or coming within fifty yards of you. Do you understand? Are those words little enough to penetrate your thick skull?”
    “Oops. You said penetrate. You know what I’m thinking now?”
    She blinked, stupefied.
    “I want my kiss,” he said.
    “I want you dead.”
    He hung his head but his gaze stayed on her face. “Come on, Roslyn. Just one. Why are you putting up such a fight over one insignificant little kiss? Hmm?”
    She covered her face with her hands, blocking all sight of him. Just a second to pull herself together, that was all she needed. Because lunging for his throat with her bare hands wouldn’t end well. No matter how tempting.
    “Sweetheart, we were all cozy and warm last night. Every time you woke up and saw I was there, you went straight back to sleep. Just like a baby, safe and sound in my arms.”
    She lowered her fingers to glower at him. “You didn’t give me any choice.”
    “Mmm.” Dark eyes narrowed and he gave her an assessing look. “You prefer it that way, don’t you? Me making you do things?”
    “No.” Her hands fell away and she literally saw red, a sheet of it, swamping her vision. A hot blood-red veil covered her world. How dare he insinuate such shit about her. “Absolutely not.”
    “What do you think that means? That you like me being in charge?”
    “I do not like you being in charge!” Birds fled from a tree nearby as her voice hit a pitch just short of shattering glass.
    “Roslyn,” he groaned. “Why don’t you just give me the kiss?”
    “I don’t want to kiss you because you’re holding me hostage, you idiot.”
    “But besides