Page 180 of Stormbreaker

Thanks to final exams and plotting our break-in, we haven’t had much time alone. I bury my nose in the curve of his throat and inhale deeply with a gentle whimper.

“What are you doing?” he asks with what sounds like barely restrained control.

I peer up. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been right across the room.”

“It isn’t close enough.”

His hazel eyes shine in a flash of purple, and a smirk curls on his lips as we shift until we’re pressed together, our mouths hovering an inch apart.

Slowly, he lowers his head and kisses me, his warm lips fusing with mine. His fingers twist in the fabric of my tank top while our thighs and knees tangle together. Slowly, his hand slides higher, trailing up my stomach, where his fingertips brush the bottom of my breasts.

“Rook,” I moan. “I want . . .” I can’t seem to articulate my thoughts.

“What do you want, Poet?” he asks. “Tell me.”

“I want you. All of you.”

He makes a pained sort of sound as his hand travels back down my stomach and teases the edge of my sleep shorts.

“I want to touch you,” he whispers. “I want to touch you so badly it hurts. Sometimes it’s all I can think about.”

“Yes,” I say. “Please.”

His mouth closes over mine, and his hand slides lower, dipping past my waistband, gently finding the place where I need him. I gasp into his mouth as his warm fingers play over me, making my hips writhe.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he moans against my lips. “Strong and brilliant. I just . . . I just wasn’t expecting this. You. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Rook,” I gasp, clinging to his shoulders while his fingers tease out ribbons of satin heat.

He smiles against the curve of my throat, his hand moving between my thighs, bringing me to the edge before he kisses me again, and then I burst in a glittering shower of sparks. I moan against him as he continues teasing and touching, leaving me breathless and limp under the warmth of his body.

Slowly, he slides his hand away as we kiss again. My fingers trail over his stomach, the planes of muscle and dusting of hair. I drift lower, running a fingertip over the waist of his pants.

“Poe,” he gasps when I shift lower, feeling his hardness pressing against the fabric, and he exhales with a soft whimper.

“I want to touch you, too,” I whisper.

“Skies, please, Poet. I’m losing my mind.”

My hand returns to his stomach and then slips lower, down past his waistband, where I find him hot, heavy, wanting. My fingers wrap around him before I slowly, carefully slide my hand down. His hips thrust, and I grip him tighter while he urges me on.

“Like that,” he rasps. “Yes. More.”

More. I want so much more.

A minute later, I feel him release with a shuddering moan.

Eventually, he pulls me up and touches his forehead to mine. We stay like that for a long minute, not moving, just breathing, just existing together. I’m not sure how many perfect moments we’re afforded during a life, but this feels like it might be one of mine.

“We should get some sleep; we have a big day ahead of us,” he says before he grins. “Tomorrow, when this is all over, I want to celebrate with you. All night. Until the sun comes up and neither of us can walk straight.”

I giggle and return his smile.

Then, I reach up to kiss him and whisper into the amethyst shadows, “I can’t wait.”

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