Page 141 of These Tears

Barely moving, I lower my hands from my chest and take the damn paperback from him, feeling more exposed with every inch of skin I stop protecting.

Elias’ head is back in the space between my neck and shoulder. His breath skims there as his gaze travels down my collarbone.

I feel that look as if it were his fingers instead.

As if he is tracing what he has not yet touched.

A wrong thing inside me answers him. It’s faint. And it burns beneath the fear.

Flipping back to the lost page, I aim my attention at it, my grip clenching around the book.

‘His member marked her with every pass. Thick and long, it invaded her throat.’

Elias’ hand at the back of my neck shifts until his thumb grazes the skin just below my ear.

‘The sugar and salt mixed as his prec—’ I halt.

‘His precum,’ Elias corrects.

I take two breaths, staring at the word, but it won’t form on my tongue.

His fingers weave through my hair, slipping through the strands until they capture the roots lightly. He draws my head back with measured control, baring my throat and trapping the scream trying to escape me.

His lips graze the corner of mine, pine and salt filling the narrowing space between his skin and mine until my lungs can no longer stand it.

‘Say it,’ he whispers gently.

My vision darkens at the edges.

My eyes climb up to the ceiling. ‘The sugar and salt mix as his precum leaks onto her tongue.’

‘Look at me.’ Breathless, his words crash against my cheek.

He angles my jaw until our lips are barely an inch away.

‘Does it taste like that?’ he asks.

His attention is fixed on my mouth. His own part, the tip of his tongue brushing once over his lower lip as if watching me has only made him thirst more.

My teeth lock until pain sparks through my jaw. My nails bite crescents into my palm, but it is my own pulse I want to punish for racing beneath his hand.

Because he’s just shown me that whatever it is we’re doing… it’s bringing up something in me I didn’t know existed.

‘It’s salty,’ I dare. Not even a twitch. ‘The sweetness is from the jam.’

His gaze holds to my mouth as he reaches for the preserve. He never looks away. Not when his fingers gather a dark smear from the plate and bring it towards me.

The moment I catch the whiff of berries, something explodes inside me.

He drags the jam across my upper lip with care, leaving the sweetness there like a mark.

Then he waits. Observes it glistening there.

I hold out against the pressure longer than I should. Then my tongue slips over my upper lip and clears the jam from it.

His eyes darken. His nostrils flare.

He realigns us until we’re both facing the fire and his chin settles at my shoulder. His breathing quickens. His other hand is at my hip, squeezing tighter as he fights whatever has taken hold of him.