Pretty Perfect Toy -- A Temptation Court Novel (Temptation Court, Book 2) by Angel Payne
Authors: Angel Payne
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instinct kicking in, as he looks back and frowns.
“ Armeau .” He reclaims my hand. “It’s all right.”
“Is that so?” I twist again but he is onto me, clutching hard. “And you have come to such a conclusion…how?”
A long breath leaves him. The thief caught with the bag . He does not fight the not-so-veiled allegation. One look into my eyes and he must see it all there. How the memories assault me, as bitter as the incident that spawned them, of the night after Prim ordered me out of the turret…
“This isn’t something I want to talk about anymore, Mishella.”
“Is that why the only sound louder than your fist against that desk is the grind of your teeth? Why you look as if you yearn to collapse where you stand, but run as fast as you can at the same time?”
“This conversation isn’t going to happen. Period.”
“I think this conversation is long overdue.”
“Then you think really wrong.”
The confrontation did not end any better—but like the stars that rebelled from the cosmos to first bring us together, we pushed back the mess and found each other once more. Reconnected .
Dear Creator, if I only know we always will…
And then the comprehension strikes.
Is this the meaning of having faith?
No wonder all those saints at the Cloisters looked so terrified.
No wonder I commiserate so thoroughly with them now.
But if the fear were gripping me tenfold, I would still endure every moment. For Cassian. To know everything about him—no matter how ugly or hard or terrible it is—I will walk through Hades itself.
So maybe this is faith.
And maybe that is simply a huge part of falling in love.
“ Mishella .” He reaches over, grabbing my other hand. Brings my knuckles up to his lips. “I love you. And I don’t want to silo the explosives anymore. Not with you.” Before my perplexed frown has a chance to fully form, he rushes on, “If this blows up on me, then I want your finger on the launch button.”
Oh, Creator.
Oh…this man.
I lift our joined hands. Extend just my fingertips from their clasp, spreading them over both sides of his jaw. The warmth of his skin mixed with the stab of his stubble inspires a similar contrast of sensations. Excitement, energy, awakening, even arousal…but also deeper versions of nervousness…fear.
This is faith.
And I do believe it.
Believe in him.
In us.
The surety reaches like roots of a tree, twining through the ground of our connection, reaching for him. I feel his stretching for me too…coiling deeper into me. We are strong, ready for the storm of whatever may come.
“I only want to love you too, Cassian. As best I can, in whatever way you need. That is all.”
For a long while, his stillness is my only reply. Nothing moves through him, not even a breath. I shiver harder. Terrified but turned-on. Unsure but utterly heated.
He steps back. Exhales roughly. “Christ, armeau. That’s all I still pray for…after this.”
*
Cassian
As we climb the spiral of stairs, I start to tremble.
Me.
Fuck.
This isn’t the surface shit, like jitters funneled into productivity. This is the shakes from the inside out. The vibrations claiming the ends of my nerves, the pith of my bones, even the molecules of my breaths. The last time I felt something close to this, I held a shovel in my hands, breaking ground on Court Towers.
This is even more unfamiliar ground. And the route is riddled with quicksand.
But I’m determined. Right now, just this once, it’s time for the silos to go. For the first time, one person alone will have access to every single bomb that can destroy me.
One person…who, as it stands right now, will not even be here in four months.
Is that why I’ve even thought about doing this?
No . Plenty of women—people I’ve even dared to called “relationships” before—have come along before this.
This is different.
She is different.
Reassuring…right? Somebody needs to relay that to my bile-filled gut.
One mire
“ Armeau .” He reclaims my hand. “It’s all right.”
“Is that so?” I twist again but he is onto me, clutching hard. “And you have come to such a conclusion…how?”
A long breath leaves him. The thief caught with the bag . He does not fight the not-so-veiled allegation. One look into my eyes and he must see it all there. How the memories assault me, as bitter as the incident that spawned them, of the night after Prim ordered me out of the turret…
“This isn’t something I want to talk about anymore, Mishella.”
“Is that why the only sound louder than your fist against that desk is the grind of your teeth? Why you look as if you yearn to collapse where you stand, but run as fast as you can at the same time?”
“This conversation isn’t going to happen. Period.”
“I think this conversation is long overdue.”
“Then you think really wrong.”
The confrontation did not end any better—but like the stars that rebelled from the cosmos to first bring us together, we pushed back the mess and found each other once more. Reconnected .
Dear Creator, if I only know we always will…
And then the comprehension strikes.
Is this the meaning of having faith?
No wonder all those saints at the Cloisters looked so terrified.
No wonder I commiserate so thoroughly with them now.
But if the fear were gripping me tenfold, I would still endure every moment. For Cassian. To know everything about him—no matter how ugly or hard or terrible it is—I will walk through Hades itself.
So maybe this is faith.
And maybe that is simply a huge part of falling in love.
“ Mishella .” He reaches over, grabbing my other hand. Brings my knuckles up to his lips. “I love you. And I don’t want to silo the explosives anymore. Not with you.” Before my perplexed frown has a chance to fully form, he rushes on, “If this blows up on me, then I want your finger on the launch button.”
Oh, Creator.
Oh…this man.
I lift our joined hands. Extend just my fingertips from their clasp, spreading them over both sides of his jaw. The warmth of his skin mixed with the stab of his stubble inspires a similar contrast of sensations. Excitement, energy, awakening, even arousal…but also deeper versions of nervousness…fear.
This is faith.
And I do believe it.
Believe in him.
In us.
The surety reaches like roots of a tree, twining through the ground of our connection, reaching for him. I feel his stretching for me too…coiling deeper into me. We are strong, ready for the storm of whatever may come.
“I only want to love you too, Cassian. As best I can, in whatever way you need. That is all.”
For a long while, his stillness is my only reply. Nothing moves through him, not even a breath. I shiver harder. Terrified but turned-on. Unsure but utterly heated.
He steps back. Exhales roughly. “Christ, armeau. That’s all I still pray for…after this.”
*
Cassian
As we climb the spiral of stairs, I start to tremble.
Me.
Fuck.
This isn’t the surface shit, like jitters funneled into productivity. This is the shakes from the inside out. The vibrations claiming the ends of my nerves, the pith of my bones, even the molecules of my breaths. The last time I felt something close to this, I held a shovel in my hands, breaking ground on Court Towers.
This is even more unfamiliar ground. And the route is riddled with quicksand.
But I’m determined. Right now, just this once, it’s time for the silos to go. For the first time, one person alone will have access to every single bomb that can destroy me.
One person…who, as it stands right now, will not even be here in four months.
Is that why I’ve even thought about doing this?
No . Plenty of women—people I’ve even dared to called “relationships” before—have come along before this.
This is different.
She is different.
Reassuring…right? Somebody needs to relay that to my bile-filled gut.
One mire
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