He smells sogood. Like trees and night. And his skin…his mouth…his arms around me.
The mad desperation in the way he’s holding me screamsI will not let you go. His fingers bruising my flesh whisper that hecan’t.
He can’t.
I don’t want him able to.
I won’t survive if he iseverable to.
And…
My head begins to clear the moment he proves that his sad little gamer arms actuallydopossess some amount of strength. My back hits my bed, and heprowls, above me, taking my prone form in. He licks his bottom lip; it’s red, raw, swollen. A cuss hisses beyond it. Then he tears off his long jacket, sends it to live in a heap on the floor behind him. Reaching for the top button of his blue dress shirt, he tugs.
Three buttons come undone before his mouth is back on mine, sending praises and incoherent reverence down my throat.
With sharpness, I become alert. With panic, I plant my palms against his chest, push.
He doesn’t budge. He is immovable.
I turn my nails in, but that elicits the exact opposite of what I’m trying for here.
By a miracle of chance, he frees my lips and opens his mouth against my throat.
Pure pleasure hits my cells, but I can’t. Icannotlet this go where this is going. Once he takes what he wants from me, all of this desire will end. He’ll have satiated the want. It’ll fizzle. And then… And then—
“Stop!” I cry, shaking.
Immediately, he…does.
Every muscle in him stops. I hear his swallow loud in my skull as he closes his mouth, pulls back, looks at me. Terrified concern riots in his beautiful blue eyes. He searches my face.Careful and hesitant, he cups my cheek. Worry saturates him as he checks my eyes, my mouth, the place he was just torturing with his teeth. Soft as love, he whispers, “Did I hurt you, dearest?”
Dearest.
When I blink, tears cascade down my cheeks.
Frantic horror pours over him. “Morana—”
“You said—” I croak, past a pitiful sniffle, “—you brought games?”
His brow knits. He oh-so-tenderly runs his knuckle beneath my eye, catching my tears. “Yes?”
“Can we…do those?” I whisper.
He searches my eyes again, looks at my body, then at his bare chest, right down to his undone belt buckle. A breath leaves him as he straightens himself, away from me. Jaw hardening, he closes his eyes. Voice rough, he says, “Yes. Of course. I…” He swipes his hand over his face, cuts his fingers back into his hair. “Of course. I’m sorry.” He presses his palm into the socket of his eye. “This…wasn’t very careful of me. I am…deeply sorry.”
I can tell that he is.
But it isn’t even his fault.
Hewascareful.
Ikissed him.
Chapter 10
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My hubris must hold in these trying times.
