Page 211 of These Tears

I stiffen when he grinds into my front. My wretched, starving body gives one soft, helpless lean into his, then pushes against him.

His lips latch onto my neck, his breath ragged, then his mouth moves back to my face.

My free palm cracks against his jaw. He takes it with a sharp breath and comes back like the blow has only pushed him deeper into the spiral.

He’s in my face in the next gasp.

His mouth claims me again.

I make a furious sound into him, trying to twist away, but every inch I deny him, he takes back with heat and breath and makes me feel it tenfold.

My hands shove at him. Then clutch him right back into me. My body is trying to survive too many commands at once.

Push. Hold. Breathe. Run. Survive.

I hate this.

I don’t.

The smokehouse door digs into my shoulder as he moves us sideways. The latch knocks against my hip, the stink of meat leaks through as he shoves us both in.

My back hits the rough wooden pillar just beyond the threshold. Hanging pieces of loin sway behind him, hooks creak softly.

He snatches my jumper and tears.

It splits at the seams, the lingering cold wrapping around my exposed skin as the white world of the yard drops away behind us.

Our lips connect before I can draw another breath – an invasion, not a kiss.

He samples me as if the desire and fear have stripped him down to instinct alone.

A strained groan tears out of his throat as his hands move everywhere at once, fabric ripping and buttons skittering across the floor.

Whatever restraint survived the yard does not follow us inside.

Within seconds, skin finds skin.

‘Elias…’ I try.

The absence in his eyes stokes the dread inside my chest.

Panic doesn’t disappear. But desire rises beside it, every bit as real and no less confusing.

He drives us down and cold boards kiss my spine. My legs are wrenched apart, one broad hand pinning both my wrists over my stomach, the other holding me open, exposed.

Then the world fractures.

White-hot sparks burst behind my eyes as his mouth closes over the sensitive part of me, unforgiving, and he releases a long, starving, decadent growl against it.

And finally latches on.

I cry out, my body arching – away, towards, I can’t tell – as every nerve lights up while he grips me tighter and drags me closer. Devouring me like he means to consume me whole.

The moans coming out of me don’t sound like mine.

My hips jerk helplessly, my thighs tremble as his tongue works me with a harsh, sinful rhythm that strips all thought from my head and blanks my vision.

My body opens beneath the sensation despite the fury still burning through me.