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He nips and nibbles and slides those deliciously warm lips up the column of my throat and across my jaw and finally reaches my lips.
My hands had been stuck at my sides as I let him lead in this intimate dance, but I allow my fingers to slide through his long, mahogany hair, gripping it to keep him from ending our kiss too soon.
It doesn’t surprise me when there’s no tongue and barely any pressure. This is a male who knows the rewards of waiting. Instead, he gifts me with the softest brush of his lips against mine.
Although it’s barely a kiss at all, it’s as if all the air in the room vanishes. My senses are heightened. Every nerve ending is ablaze with anticipation. There is a scent of earthiness and musk that wafts from him, mixed with something sweeter, almost like wildflowers on a summer breeze.
As his mouth moves against mine, I can taste the faint tang of musk that has been lingering in the air. It mingles with the warmth of his breath—a tantalizing blend that electrifies my tastebuds and leaves me craving more.
His kiss unleashes a riot of sensations along my synapses. His hands tighten around me, warmth radiating from where they’re lodged.
The texture of Sylas’s lips against mine is like velvet—soft yet firm—a tactile feast for both mind and body. With each whisper-soft brush against them, I feel a surge spiking from deep within me, a swelling ache.
Every sound amplifies—the catch in our breaths mingling together; hushed moans escaping our parted lips; tiny gasps disrupting momentary moments of silence. It adds another layer to this symphony of desire.
His mouth whispers promises without words. Is he receiving the same messages from me? We have no right, though. We’re probably on borrowed time. Who knows what will happen when the Army finds out I know their big secret?
All I know is that I don’t want this moment to end.
Chapter Eighteen
Sylas
My pulse is pounding, my cock is kicking, and my mind is swirling with so many thoughts and emotions. I’m out of my depth.
My thoughts may be sluggish, but a few things are clear. Those were the best few minutes of my life. Also, we need to stop before I spill in my pants.
Pulling away abruptly will kill me, though. So I slide my hands to her shoulders and clutch them tightly as I reluctantly pull my mouth from hers. If the soldiers somehow find out she’s here and break through the door and throw me in a dungeon for the rest of my life, I’ll always have this.
Fifty years from now, I’ll be able to recall her taste, the silken waterfall of her hair as it brushed against my cheeks, the scent of her arousal as my kisses affected her. No one will ever be able to take that away from me.
I layer short, close-lipped kisses along the seam of her lips, the line of her jaw, the column of her throat. Although I want to release a soft hum of appreciation and affection, my biology gets the better of me and I bugle, which makes me jerk back so I don’t hurt her ears.
Maybe that bugle was a lucky accident because the ridiculous, powerful, far-too-loud sound breaks the mood and causes Cally to laugh, covering her mouth, her eyes dancing with mirth.
I want to sing her praises and tell her how amazing that was and thank her and share every thought that is flying through my thoughts. But I don’t.
Maybe I built this up in my mind and made it bigger than it was. I’m sure she’s had plenty of boyfriends in the past. Maybe that would only have earned a C on a kissing report card. My chest tightens when I wonder if I would even receive a passing grade.
She leans across the countertop and cups my cheek with her palm. Gone is the laughter of a moment ago. Her expression is serious, her hazel eyes piercing, as she says, “That was the best kiss of my life, Sylas.”
I control my urge to challenge her, or ask, “Really?” Instead, I let her compliment wash over me, easing my fears that her affection isn’t mutual.
Just as quickly as my roiling emotions steady themselves, reality slams into me with the force of a sledgehammer. Not twelve feet away is a bed. One bed. For two people. Two people who just shared an incendiary kiss, one of whom is in the throes of the most powerful rut of his lifetime.
“Uh. I think I need another shower.” I pause, giving her time to smirk. She doesn’t disappoint. Her mocking doesn’t bother me because I know we’re no longer adversaries; we’re on the same team. “Then I’m thinking it might be a good idea to use the rope.”
“Really?” She cocks her head but doesn’t say another word, doesn’t argue.
“Who knows what kind of DNA is swimming in my cells, Cally? I’m in uncharted territory. All I know is that I’d do anything to ensure I don’t harm you. Better safe than sorry, right?”
I was prepared for a debate, or an inquisition. What I didn’t expect was for her to ease onto the countertop—which couldn’t be comfortable—and knee-walk closer so she can cup both my cheeks in her palms and place her beautiful face inches from mine.
“Although I’m the first woman you’ve ever known, the first you’ve ever kissed, you are not my first kiss, Sylas. Just so you know, that wasn’t an everyday, mundane mouth-mating. It was an A-number-one, world-class, one-of-a-kind kiss.”
Her thumbs trace the line of my jaw.
“More than that, I don’t know what it felt like on your end, but on my end? There’s a connection between us. Deeper than it has a right to be after we’ve known each other a mere handful of hours. All that is to say I trust you. You need to be tied up? I’ll do it. And we’ll take this crazy situation and navigate it one step at a time. Together.”
