Page 114 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Emmeline’s knees buckled, and Roremar looped his arm around her waist to steady her, shifting so his leg pushed between hers and…

Fuck.

Her heartbeat sped up as he pressed against her center, her cotton dress so damn thin, he could feel her heat. She blinked rapidly, biting down on her lip to stop herself from gasping.

Every dusting of her lashes against her cheeks came with a subtle, begging nod. Fates be damned, he didn’t need more of a hint than that.

Slowly, testing, Roremar shifted so Emmeline’s clit grazed his leg. She squirmed as if she was already sensitive. Her teeth sank deeper into her bottom lip to keep from moaning, but he could feel it vibrating up her chest, each hum of approval loud as if it were in his own bones.

Every bit of sense he retained was lost to that Fatesdamned lip bite. He was leaking in his pants at the sight.

Emmeline ground against his leg, and Roremar studied her. The pace she set, the rhythm and the dazed look in her eyes. He memorized every breath and sigh she fought as he watched her writhe against him.

She exhaled, head tipping back, and Roremar ducked to whisper in her ear, “You have to be quiet.”

Her only response was a breath that nearly cracked into a moan. He wanted to swallow it. To drink in every gasp and capture some part of her.

Roremar pressed a kiss below her ear, and she sped up, as if the touch of his lips against her skin affected her as much as it did him. She was practically riding his thigh.

His hips were snapping forward now, too, his body reacting entirely of its own accord. He wasn’t going to complain, though. Not if she was going to let him have her in any Fatesblessed way.

Even if it was a forbidden secret in a cramped alcove off the Angel’s personal seeing chamber beneath a haunted graveyard, he’d take it without question. Give her whatever she wanted—what no one else could give her.

“You can be good for me, Huntress,” he practically begged, so quietly no one would hear. “And I can be good for you, see. This? This is so good.”

Her response was between staggered breaths as she chased a release both for herself and her magic. “More.”

“Use me, Emmeline.” Please, Fates be damned, use me.

Their breath clouded between them, as hot and sinful as what they were doing in the Angel’s sacred space. And, fuck, did it feel good to defy the Fates like this. He hoped they all saw—saw them together. Saw him—the reviled pariah of their clan—worshiping her—their starsblessed favored.

Kissing his way down her neck, he rocked her harder against him, picked up her pace. His skin burned. He was ready to explode at a single touch, and he didn’t give a damn if he came right here, without even taking his clothes off, as long as he took care of her.

Emmeline clung to his shoulders, head dropping back. Roremar traced the column of her throat with his lips, listening to her gasp and lingering when her breath stuttered, timing the pace to the rock of her hips to draw out every sensation possible.

“Not enough,” she breathed.

“For now, it has to be,” he said, words softly panted against her neck. “One day, I’ll give you what you truly want. My fingers? My cock? Fates, every part of me is yours.”

We only ruin each other.

Well, if this was ruin, he’d die a happy man.

Her limbs trembled against him. He wrapped one arm around her tighter, teasing her nipple with his other hand, pinching her over her dress so she gasped.

“That’s it, Emmeline. You’re doing so good.” His voice was so rough, it was getting hard to keep quiet. And while he wanted to stay here with her forever, he knew the person looking for them could be back soon. “We have to hurry, Huntress. Can you come for me?”

Emmeline whimpered.

He dropped his head, sucking her nipple over the fabric of her dress. When he flicked his tongue at the same time he pressed her down against his thigh, Emmeline gave him what he so desperately wanted to see.

She came with her entire body trembling. Her teeth sank into her lip again, and Roremar had to press his mouth to her shoulder to stifle his groan. He barely stopped himself from toppling over that ledge, feverishly rocking her against him until she was done, completely sated in his arms.

Fuck, it felt so good to hold her as she finished. He hadn’t gotten to do that part before. To feel her skin against his, her rapid breath warming the crook of his neck. He still wasn’t getting to feel all of her the way he yearned to, but at least every one of her panting breaths rolled through his own body.

Angels, he was Fatesdamned addicted to this woman. He felt the withdrawal when she wasn’t around, became more possessive every time he touched her.

And he couldn’t have her.