Page 193 of Sorrow & Strangers

“You’ve made your requests. These are mine.”

He closes his eyes, exhaling heavily, and I play with the sleeve of his shirt.

He opens his eyes and looks at me, his gaze flickering with vulnerability. “Can All Souls be an exception to the no-sleepover stipulation?” he asks. “I’d very much like to spend our limited time here with you in my arms at night.”

“Are you providing an exception?”

His jaw feathers. “I . . .” He runs a hand down his face. “Fuck,” he says, slipping from the bed and starting to pace.

He is still completely naked, and my mouth waters at how perfect he is. His hard cock could be considered beautiful if it weren’t so savage. The balls capping the bars along his shaft catch the light, and the memory of how he tasted, how he felt against my tongue, threatens to derail me.

“I so desperately want to,” he says, snapping me back to the present. He’s talking about us having sex, but with how I react to him, even I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I could so easily lose myself in this man. “But I know myself too well, and if I fuck you this weekend, and you . . .” His voice breaks a little. “Fuck someone else . . .” He grates out the words like they physically pain him. “I will kill them, and you’ll never forgive me for it.” He stops pacing and faces me. “Even though I would have no right to do so.”

We stare at each other for a while, and I stand there, processing every expression that crosses his face. The anger shifts to despair, but it is the vulnerability that hits me right in the chest. Holding his gaze steadily, I unbutton his shirt and allow it to fall from my body. I leave it pooled on the floor and climb into his bed.

“Princess? What are you doing?”

I have no idea, but he keeps shattering the barriers I attempt to erect between us. Whether I like it or not, there is no going back, no replacing the distance I managed to maintain between us this year.

“I’m agreeing to stay the night with you while we are here at All Souls,” I say, slipping beneath the covers.

He searches my eyes before prowling across the room and crawling into bed beside me. “But . . . why, when I can’t meet your terms?”

“Because you asked and explained your reasoning,” I say simply. “So I’m willing to compromise and give you this. It isn’t that I don’t want it as well. I just do not enjoy the discomfort of the limbo we find ourselves in.”

He moans softly and pulls me into his arms, burying his face into my neck. He inhales deeply.

“I have one more term,” I say, tilting my head for him.

He tenses a little.

“I don’t think we should do anything sexual. It complicates things.” And I’m too overwhelmed to add that aspect to whatever the fuck is going on between us.

“Can I hold you like this still?” he asks, brushing his nose over my pulse.

“Yes,” I say. “For this weekend.”

He presses his lips to my neck and kisses me once, twice, three times. “This too?” he asks, his voice a husky rumble.

“Stranger . . .” I moan.

“Is that a no?”

“It’s not a no, but . . .” I say, desire pooling low in my tummy.

“Need you,” he husks against the thin skin of my throat. He drags his teeth over my fluttering pulse and pulls my body close, leaving a scalding trail of kisses along my jaw. I slide my fingers into his hair, tangling them in the silky locks as he grinds his hard cock against my hip. “I’ve dreamed of this so many times, but those fantasies pale to monochrome compared to the reality of you.”

I turn my head, sliding my lips along his jaw, savoring the tingle his stubble leaves in its wake. His skin tastes like embers and whiskey, making me crave more. He grasps my hair in one hand, the other sitting low on my back, holding me to him.

“Mine,” he growls possessively, pressing another line of scalding kisses over my throat.

Fuck.

I slide my knee to his hip, and he glides his hand from my back over my ass to cup my thigh, pulling my leg higher. My pussy throbs as the new position opens me for him, and I nuzzle his cheek, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

I want to kiss him. I’m desperate to feel his lips against mine, but we can’t. Kissing is maybe the most intimate act. Even more so than sex.

He moans, and I feel my arousal drip down my thigh. “You’ve turned me into a wanton creature, happy for the slightest crumb of your affection.” He reaches between us and adjusts his cock, pressing his hard, hot length against my dripping cunt. Both of us freeze, panting.