My heart breaks, shattering into a million pieces.
“Do whatever you want,” I whisper, bringing our joined hands to my cheek. “Whatever feels good. I’ll tell you if I don’t like it, but I won’t interfere. In fact.” I push myself farther up the bed and wrap my hands around the headboard. “I won’t touch you.”
My breasts are heaving as I try to breathe through the nerves writhing beneath my skin. This feels like a bold move—too bold, perhaps—and for a second, I wonder if I’ve pushed him too far.
“Dragonfly,” he murmurs, taking in my body as he runs a shaky hand down his face. “I… What if I…” Stopping, he drops his hand and locks eyes with me. “No sex,” he finally says. “But I want to give you pleasure. I almost went insane before your fever, watching the others touch you, wanting you.”
He did? But he gave no indication he was even affected.
“Have me,” I whisper. “I won’t move.”
Goosebumps bloom across my skin as he takes one step closer, then another. He pauses, hands stroking over his tattoos one last time before they travel up to the collar of that open, ripped black coat he wears.
That comes off first, then his boots. Perhaps he does it to give himself the security of having more access to his tattoos, but for me, it’s like watching a piece of art be unveiled. Knives dance across his skin, waltzing with the instruments and even… “Is that a lockpick?”
Bree looks down at the tattoo beneath his arm and grins. “I have a lot of useful tricks under my sleeve.”
I want to chuckle, but it dies in my throat as he reaches down and pulls a small, curved blade from his lower back and crawls up to me. He wields it like a claw, tucked between his fingers.
“Can I see you?” he asks softly, catching the blade against the collar of my shirt.
The contrast between the gentleness of his words and the sharp prick of metal against my skin makes me shiver as I nod.
“Yes.”
The knife is sharp, cutting through my tunic like butter. Fabric flutters apart, leaving skin peeking through. The blade returns again, flicking aside each half until my breasts are exposed to the warm summer air and the heat in his gaze.
He swallows again, and my nipples take that as a sign to harden painfully into tight little pink buds that rise and fall with my shallow breaths.
“Perfect.” His voice has gone hoarse again. “I… You have no idea how unworthy I am of this. Of you.”
Tears prick my eyes. “I promise to spend the rest of my life teaching you that you’re wrong.”
His whole body jerks, his blade disappearing into smoke as his hand hovers painfully close to the exposed skin of my ribs.
Touch me,I beg silently, unwilling to pressure him with the words.
A single finger skates the air above my chest. So close. I can feel the heat of him searing me across the distance.
When he finally does touch me, it’s to trace a line down from the tip of my ear to my jaw. The anticipation has built so much that my body arches from the bed, pussy clenching with frustration.
Instead of demanding he continue, I say, “You can stop whenever you want. I don’t mind.”
He shakes his head. “I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to. Goddess, the taste of you haunts my dreams. I have to make sure it’s as good as I remember.”
That finger travels to my chin, pulling it up to angle my lips just so. His mouth descends on mine, and my eyes slip closed before I can help it.
“Keep them open.” His breath sighs over my face. “No one else has your eyes. It helps me remember it’s you.”
Doing as he asks rewards me with the faintest brush of skin against skin. Then another. My hands tighten on the headboard, solid wood doing nothing to steady me as he dives in and finally kisses me properly.
That’s when I realise his tongue is shifted. The forked prongs twine inside my mouth with so much more agility than any normal male could hope to achieve. Clumsy at first, perhaps, but within seconds he regains his confidence, stroking against me with a skill that steals my breath.
I’m breathless when he pulls away. Arousal coils low in my belly as he dips his head again, this time pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek as the hand still holding my jaw shifts lower to cup the back of my head. His fingers thread into my hair, tugging lightly at the roots until I gasp.
He freezes. “Okay?” he checks.
“More than,” I promise. “Feels good.”
