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“Good,” I add again like an idiot.
“If it was so good, then you wouldn’t be whining. You’d be screaming your lover’s name as each orgasm crashes into you. That’s good sex, little rebel.” That entire sentence is like diving off a cliff and falling into warm honey. I’m wet. Shamefully slick between my legs. Warrose’s dreamy hazel-blue eyes flick down to my bobbing throat.
I huff. “You don’t look like the screaming type, War-Man.”
“You’re right. I’m the growling, groaning, roaring into your neck as I slam into the hilt type. I’m the type that will have my face buried between your thighs for hours before I let myself come.” His gaze turns dark, hazy even. I’ve never seen a man’s eyes dilate to the point of black saucers.
I can’t help it. My hand opens for him. And for just a moment, he’s surprised. A brief glint of shock. But he acts quickly. Those large fingers curl through my own, and his thumb traces over my skin slowly. A gentle tease. A steady pulse of pleasure zings up my arm.
I pinch my thighs together as if my life depends on it.
What am I doing? I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. But this feels so good. I imagine the sound of him growling in my ear. The feel of his weight rocking over my body.
I let out a quick breath as if to force out this attraction seeping through my veins, tightening my muscles, and making me involuntarily clench around air.
Warrose is not my type. I’ve always been attracted to gentlemen. Golden boys with blond hair, soft features, and charming personalities. That’s what I was raised to find handsome. Romantic. Stable.
“Promise me something?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“Never.” I smile.
“You can mouth off with me in private, be your usual bratty self. But you need to keep your attitude in check when we’re out in the open.”
“Excuse me?” My chest tightens.
“Behave.”
I yank my hand from his grip. “That’s cute. How did you see this conversation going in your head, chicken coward?” Steam practically bursts from my ears. Behave. I already feel like a helpless child in this group. And now I’m being told not to get in the way. I’m not big-mouth Niles. I know how to keep a low profile. “Behave,” I mock.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Please. Stick your foot further into your mouth and explain.”
Warrose looks down at his empty hand. “This place is full of men that…” he growls under his breath, running his other hand through his hair.
“That what?”
“And you’re you, Ruth.”
I stiffen at the sound his voice makes when he says my name. He never uses my name.
“I’m me?”
“I’m going to lose my mind if any of them try…” He trails off again, grunting at his inability to express whatever is frustrating him.
“Are you going to finish any of these sentences?” I ask.
His throat bobs, and his eyes fall closed.
“Warrose?”
“Forget it, little rebel.”
Forget what? He hasn’t said anything.
I watch as he pulls his hand back into his own cage, turning onto his side before his breathing turns rough and heavy.
6. Restless Fire
