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Has he tapped into my loneliness and confusion? Maybe. Probably. He’s crazy, not stupid. Since I wear my emotions on my sleeve, he can probably sense my weakness. Of course he’s acting on it.
What will happen if Marrok treats me with actual tenderness?
He’ll strip my soul bare.
Still, he’s vulnerable, too. I feel it. I need to press my advantage before I find myself permanently trapped in Crazy Town. “Touch me. Just one simple touch.”
“Naught about you is simple.” Pain haunts his face. His stare bores into mine.
The intent in his eyes steals my breath. Nerves assault me. I’m captive to him in all ways.
Can he see that?
I don’t have time to think before he leans in, his lips sinking toward mine. But instead of seizing my mouth, his fingers tighten on me. He presses his cheek against my own.
The embrace is both a shock and a thrill. His five o’clock shadow rasps against my skin. He tugs me closer, exhaling roughly like he’s fighting temptation.
I want him. Right or wrong, I’m all up in my feels. I can’t deny it.
It’s probably stupid, but I settle my palm over his dark bristle, close my eyes, and sink into the moment with him.
He murmurs a sound—of approval?—as he cups my crown with his other hand, fingers tangling in my hair.
The carving of the angel stands inches from my grasp…but now that I’m in Marrok’s embrace, I melt against him. Everything about this moment together disarms me.
He strokes my hair. The caress touches my heart. I’m stunned speechless. How can a man so imposing be capable of such longing? Of such tenderness? I feel it in every glide of his fingers, with his every whisper against my ear.
“Marrok?”
“Aye?”
“Kiss me…”
Chapter Fifteen
“Kiss you?” He tenses. “Mayhap I should make you wait half an eternity, as I have.”
“Is that what you really want, to keep waiting?”
He curses softly. The moment hangs between us.
Marrok drops his gaze to my mouth. “Nay.”
I hold my breath.
His eyes darken. “God help me.”
He cups my face. I feel his hot breath and determination as he swoops down. I expect a punishing kiss, an angry fight for domination.
Instead, he settles his lips over mine like a whisper. A tease.
Without thought, I surge to my tiptoes and press myself against him.
He fists my hair and tugs in rebuke, determined to control our kiss, to dole it out slowly. He glides across my mouth, then retreats. He nips at my bottom lip, then leaves me waiting. I tremble in anticipation. I’m hungry for him to seize me, desperate to have his taste on my tongue.
Marrok makes me wait, cajoling and seducing. Awakening me. Slowly. So slowly.
I pant and cling, shaking as I tangle my hands in his hair. I lose myself to the scrape of his stubble and the stark lust of his touch. Everything about him is rough…
