Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
I move closer, drawn by the pain I can feel radiating from him. "Tell me."
For a long moment, I think he won't answer. Then his hand turns beneath mine, fingers interlacing. "Not tonight," he says softly. "Not before the Crucible."
The haunted look in his eyes stops me from asking more. Instead, I lean forward, pressing my forehead against his. "Then let me help you forget, just for tonight."
His breath catches. "Nessa..."
"Please," I whisper, my lips brushing against his. "I need this. I need you."
The kiss starts soft, almost hesitant, but that restraint lasts only seconds before deepening into something hungry, desperate. His hands come up to cradle my face, fingers threading into my hair with a tenderness that contradicts the heat of his mouth. I can feel him holding back, that iron control he maintains at all times still firmly in place.
I don't want his control. I want all of him, broken edges and all.
I slip off my bra so I’m only wearing the thin panties, sliding into his space and pressing my body flush against his. My bare breasts and hardened nipples against his chest. My legs spreading over his thick, muscular thigh. I feel the exact moment he surrenders. A tremor runs through him, and with a groan that's half need and half resignation, he pulls me fully onto his lap.
"This doesn't change anything," he murmurs against my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath my ear that makes my entire body shiver. "This is just—"
"Release. A distraction," I finish for him, already working at the buttons of his shirt with unsteady fingers. "I know."
But I can sense the lie in his words and my own, feel the emotions he's trying so desperately to conceal. A tangled knot of desire, protection, possession, and something deeper, something he refuses to name even to himself. This isn't just physical for him, no matter how much he wants it to be.
I run my hands over the sculpted planes of his chest, the hard muscle beneath tanned skin. Moonlight spills through the window, painting his body in silver and shadow. I trace the lines of his torso with reverent fingers, following the dips and ridges of muscle, marveling at the perfection of him.
His hands slide down my sides, calloused palms rough against the sensitive skin of my waist, trailing warmth in their wake. The cool night air kisses my bare breasts, but I barely notice, too consumed by the heat of his gaze as it sweeps over me.
"Fuck," he breathes, the word whispered like a profane prayer. "You're perfect."
His hands move upward, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts with a touch so light it's almost torturous. I arch into him, seeking more, but he holds back, those golden eyes watching me intently, gauging my every reaction.
"I won't break," I breathe, frustration edging into my voice. "I'm not made of glass, Raith. I want you to use me however you need tonight. Let me help you forget. Let me make you feel something good for a change, because you deserve it."
In answer, he lifts me effortlessly, turning to lay me back against the pillows before covering my body with his own. The weight of him is perfect, grounding me, making me feel simultaneously protected and utterly at his mercy. His mouth claims mine again, more demanding this time, and I respond with equal fervor.
The kiss deepens, turns volcanic, his tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that makes heat pool low in my belly. One of his hands drifts down my side, tracing the curve of my hip before slipping beneath the waistband of my panties. I lift my hips in silent invitation, and he hooks his fingers into the fabric, dragging it slowly down my legs until I'm completely bared to him.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes darkening to a brassy depth. "How do you look more fucking sexy every day?" His words are rough with desire and awe.
As his gaze traverses my body, I feel magic rising between us, a physical presence in the small space that separates us. My power responds to his, essence flowing between us in a bond that transcends the physical. It's intoxicating, this sharing of something so intrinsic to who we are.
I reach for him, pulling him back down to me, craving the feel of his skin against mine. His mouth finds my throat, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to my collarbone. When his lips close around my nipple, I arch off the bed with a gasp, one hand flying to the back of his head to hold him there.
He lavishes attention on me, alternating between gentle suction and the light scrape of teeth that sends fire cascading through my veins. All the while, his hand traces maddening patterns along my inner thigh, drawing ever closer to where I need him most, but never quite giving me the relief I crave.