He reaches up and tucks a loose strand of fiery hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against the side of my face. The same thing he did as a child when I would be upset or hurt. His hands were clumsy back then. They aren’t anymore.
I lift my face, questions lingering in my eyes. Candlelight flickers between us, casting the sharp angles of his face in burnished warmth. His gaze drops to my lips, then rises back to my eyes. His jaw clenches, like he’s fighting the desires racing through his head. The breath hitches in my lungs as one of his hands presses gently to my waist, pulling me closer. A flicker of something passes over his eyes, but he doesn’t retreat.
“You’ll hate me for this,” he whispers.
I keep my mouth firmly shut.
Fear presses into my bones that I’ll ruin the moment. I tilt my chin up in pure defiance. Daring and begging him all at the same time. I’ve waited years for this. He looks like the boy I ran through fields with, but different. Bigger. Harder. Ruthless. My past and future all combined in one man. My chest tightens as I think of how much he means to me.
He breaks first as his lips crash over mine.
It’s not gentle and soft. It’s years in the making.
His hand slides to the back of my head, cradling it and pulling me in, kissing me hard. I grip onto his forearms, praying my knees won’t give out. He kisses like someone who’s starving. Like he’s afraid he’s never going to get another chance. I’ve stubbornly waited for this man. Years of stolen glances and buried feelings. A half-moan, half-plea slips out as he grips my hair in his fist. He swallows the sound and growls low in his throat, deepening the kiss.
This is a pureclaiming.
I sink my fingers into his shirt, trying to get closer. He pushes me backward causing my back to slam into the nearest wall. His mouth moves across my jaw and then lower, continuing down my neck. His tongue licks over the pulse beating there before he gently bites down. I inhale sharply at the sudden intrusion. My core throbs with need. My skin is burning hot, and I feel like I’m going to burst into flames all at the same time.
His mouth moves back to mine with raw hunger. I slip my hands beneath his shirt, needing more contact. I just need to touch him. I’m desperate and brazen in my touch. Every nerve ending feels like it’s about to combust. Calloused fingertips work their way up, pulling my shirt from my shoulder. Cold air touches my bare skin, causing the exposed area to erupt in goose bumps. He pulls the fabric farther down, and I arch into him, begging for something I don’t understand.
But he does.
His eyes meet mine. “Nori,” he rasps, saying my name like a prayer. Like he’s full of devotion, and I’m the only one he wants to give it to. He bends his head, lips running over the curve of my shoulder before moving to my collarbone, and then lower. My head falls back against the wall, breath coming out in rapid bursts. His mouth moves over my breast, worshipping it as if he’s waited years to give in to the temptation. His teeth gently bite down on my nipple before he pulls it back into his mouth. When I feel like I’m going to collapse, he moves his mouth back to mine. It’s rougher, more desperate.
A clearing of a throat douses me like ice water.
Ambrose pulls back, breaking the kiss, his breath broken and ragged. He moves to stand in front of me, blocking me from view.
I pull my shirt back in place just as the intruder speaks.
“As an officer, I would assume the rules were clear to you. No fornication with first-years,” a deep, all-too-familiar voice states.
Chapter twenty-four
I want to die. On the spot.
Mortification blossoms in my chest. Anger not too far behind. The person it’s directed at is none other than myself. How could I forget to close the fucking door? One of the best moments of my life becomes a blatant display of voyeurism.
I slowly peek my head around Ambrose’s shoulder and see Kingston leaning up against the doorframe, both hands resting in his pockets. His face is a mask of indifference, and his dark eyes are unreadable.
“How about you get out and close the fucking door?” Ambrose grinds out between his teeth.
“Why?” Kingston replies, raising a dark brow. “It was just getting good.”
“Fuck off, Adair,” Ambrose growls.
A cruel smile creeps over Kingston’s face. “As I previously mentioned,Captain, there will be no fucking of any kind today.”
Ambrose’s fists curl at his side. Anger vibrates off him in waves. I gently rest my hand in the crook of his arm, trying to defuse the situation.
Kingston’s eyes narrow at my touch. His jaw flexes tightly. “All officers are to report to the briefing room,” he says coldly, moving his glare to Ambrose. He then turns on his heel and leaves without a backward glance, shadows swirling around him in controlled chaos.
I lift my eyes to Ambrose as worry washes over me.
Briefing room?Whatever they’re calling all the officers in for on such short notice can’t be good.
“Fuck,” Ambrose mutters under his breath.
