Page 19 of Gold & Shadow

“Night will be our best bet,” Orson mused, turning to the rough map I had made of the surrounding streets. “With your shadows, of course.”

“Orson, we have been over this a million times,” I groaned, standing and stretching. I was stiff and frustrated, and if I had to spend more time platonically pouring over maps and strategy, I would scream. “I’m going to bed.”

“Do you want me to join you?” he asked, his attention still focused entirely on the maps.

I gaped. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” Orson turned the heavy weight of his attention on me, “do you want me to join you?”

He stood, moving with more grace than I would have believed of a bear as he prowled toward me, his eyes devouring me with each step as he removed his glasses and left them on the coffee table.

I opened my mouth and closed it again. This was becoming far too much of a habit around the bear king, and he smirked as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“I have to confess something to you,” he said, moving slowly so as not to spook me. I backed up instinctually until I hit the wall. “I know I promised not to look at your perfect breasts. But I lied. I could see them perfectly fine, even without the glasses.”

“Scoundrel,” I breathed, not sure if I was capable of making much sense with him bearing—my ridiculous brain faintly registered the pun—down on me.

He shrugged. “Thief,” he accused in return, closing the last few inches between us as he leaned a hand on the wall behind me. “Are you ready to be honest, yet?”

“About what?” I asked, my voice coming out more breathlessly than I would have liked. My heart was thumping so loudly I was sure he could hear it, and the warmth of him practically seared my skin.

“About how much you want me,” he said looking smugly down at me as I gaped like a fish again. “I’ve told you, I want you. And I would like to share my bed for more than just sleep.”

“I…gods,” I exhaled, trying to calm my heart. “You can’t just—”

“We’ve been over that already, Little Thief,” Orson said, leaning closer so his breath caressed my face. He smelled like cocoa and cinnamon and toasty fires. “I do what I want.”

He leaned forward then, and I was certain he was going to kiss me until he tilted his head at the last second, placing a kiss to my jaw. It was feather light, but somehow still a hot brand against my skin.

“Tell me to stop, Little Thief,” he commanded, his voice a rumble as he repeated his order from what felt like weeks ago, but was only days.

He hovered, his mouth a hair’s breadth from my jaw as he waited for my command. I could tell him to stop. I had done so twice, and Orson had honored my requests. True, he’d been a bit handsy during the cuddling phases of our extremely short acquaintance, but I hadn’t told him to stop. I’d wanted him then, and I wanted him now.

I was drawn to him, and the need to explore this desire was chafing at me, whether or not I wanted it to.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered, feeling one large, warm hand curl around my waist as the other cupped the back of my neck.

“Thank fuck,” Orson growled, his lips beginning a slow exploration of the skin beneath my jaw as his fingers tightened on my waist. He hovered over my pulse, which I could feel fluttering against his lips. “Tell me if you change your mind.”

“Unlikely,” I gasped, feeling his hand slide lower to cup my rear as he gently scraped his teeth across my pulse point.

“I’m not a slow, gentle lover, Lis,” Orson warned, the evidence of his restraint clear in the slight quaver in his voice and the hard press of him against me. “Shifters are predators. Aggressive. Territorial. Dominating. I need to know if you can handle all of that.”

“I don’t know,” I confessed, my heart pounding as he tumbled a laugh against my neck. “I’ve never…it’s been…awhile.” My breath caught as he moved to the other side of my jaw, his beard scratching in a delicious way as he trailed his lips over my pulse there.

“Never?” he asked, stilling at my pulse.

“No, not never, you great furball,” I snapped, earning a laugh from Orson and a pinch on my behind for my sass. “I’ve been with men. A man. Once.” I blushed, remembering my one, fumbling experience several years ago at a party hosted by Victor in the city with one of his human guards. “I know where everything goes.”

“Knowing where everything goes does not equate to experience,” Orson growled, pulling away to study my face. His beard twitched in amusement, but his eyes were fierce. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Without fully thinking through what I was about to do, I pushed my shadows from me, sending Orson stumbling back and binding him with ropes of darkness.

“I can take care of myself,” I pointed out, smirking at his expression of disbelief and, strangely, delight.

“Good,” Orson rumbled. “Because as soon as you release me, I will no longer be holding back.”

I kept my shadows tight, biting my lip as I backed toward the stairs. “In that case,” I said, stepping carefully backward lest I fall and prematurely end the interesting activities that I was sure we were about to engage in, “you’ll have to catch me.”