She was afraid. He heard it in her voice, and something in him reacted to her fear.
Can’t let her be afraid. Won’t.
His mouth took hers. He drove his tongue past her lips, greedily taking and tasting every drop of her. She met him. Kissed him back with sensual skill tinted with the hint of desperation. His hold tightened on her hips. She was flush against him…Wait, her legs were between his. She had to feel the growing dick shoving hard against her, not like there was any place where he could hide his erection. She was soft and warm, and the fresh scent of strawberries seemed to cling to her skin. A sweet scent.
In hell. We are in hell. Trapped.
Her mouth slid away from his. Skimmed his jaw. “You’re doing it again,” she chided. “Focus on me. Breathe with me. Feel my body against yours. Feel me as I take a breath in, then let it out. Nice and slow, okay? Feel me. Breathe with me. Focus on me.”
She pulled in a soft breath. Let it out.
He felt her breath. Felt it as her chest pulled in, then pressed out.
He…
Breathed with her. In and out.
Again.
Not desperate, heaving breaths. She wasn’t doing that. She was breathing slowly. Carefully. Because she didn’t know how much damn air they had. Because she knows that we are buried in a fucking coffin. Buried alive.
His breath rushed out.
She kissed him again. A quick slide of her tongue. A caress that had his dick hardening even more and had him instantly focusing on her once again.
“Every time you panic, I’m kissing you,” she said. “Be warned. My mouth will find yours. You’re going to get awful addicted to me and my kisses before we’re rescued.” A teasing note had entered her voice.
A warm, sexy voice. One that he thought might have just held the faintest trace of a southern accent. But he didn’t really care about her accent. Instead, he was focused on what she’d just said…Before we’re rescued. “No one will come to save us,” he rasped. They would not.
Soft laughter. Light. Husky. “Of course, they will.”
He shook his head, and the back of his skull seemed to bang against the wood beneath him. “We’re buried in a coffin.” His hands remained on her. He’d rather touch her than the hard wood around him.
“Preston…” She breathed his name like a prayer.
Preston. He swallowed. Twice. He didn’t know his mystery lady in the dark, but she knew him.
I’m Preston Byron, and I’ve been thrown into hell again. Fucking again.
But he wasn’t alone. Not this time.
“You noticed the coffin, huh?” Again, that slightly teasing note even as her voice tried to fray around the edges.
How the hell could she tease when they were going to die?
“What gave it away?” she asked him. “The wood or the small size? Because you’re bigger than me…let’s see, you’re probably around six-foot-three? Maybe six-four?”
He was six-four.
“This coffin has to be tighter for you. Are your feet hitting the wooden slat near them?”
Yes, they were.
“Or maybe it was the darkness that gave things away. Was that one of the big clues? Because you woke up and you knew instantly where you were and what was happening.”
He wanted her mouth back on his. When her mouth was on his, he had sweetness in hell. “Been…here before.” Gritted, rough words. Brutal in their savagery.
“You’ve been buried alive before.” Not a question. More of a statement.
