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It's irrational and possessive and probably a touch psychotic given our current relationship dynamic, but our basest desires don't give a fuck about family politics.
And right now, I've never wanted anything as much as I want to claim Evangeline Carter.
We break apart, both of us nearly panting for air. Her lips look cherry-red and swollen, and this perverse sense of pride blooms inside my chest.
“Jesus Christ, Lincoln,” she says with a breathy laugh. “How the hell am I supposed to go to sleep now?”
“Hmm,” I murmur, a bit distracted by the way the amber flecks in her eyes seem like they're almost lit from within.
She takes a step backward, and I let my hands slide down her arms slowly, savoring the last vestiges of her embrace.
The back of her calves hit the bottom stair, a few feet of space between us now. I tilt my head, clocking the sly curve of her mouth.
She walks up the first step, still facing me with her hand on the railing. She angles her head, her hair falling over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”
I reach her in two steps, grabbing her by the sides of her thighs and hauling her into my arms. She laughs and throws her arms around my neck to hold on, but she shouldn't worry. I'm not going to drop her.
I don't think I'm ever going to let her go.
21
EVANGELINE
I tightenmy hold around Bane's neck as he takes the stairs two at a time, laughter spilling from my lips despite the residual fear lining my limbs.
His scent surrounds me, that clean woodsy smell, and I feel safe. Like no one can get to me while he's here.
He carries me down the hall and into the bedroom, stopping at the end of the bed. His palms slide from the backs of my thighs, over my hips, and settle against my waist. A second later, I'm flying as he tosses me into the middle of the mattress.
I laugh, the weightless feeling ending abruptly when my back sinks into the bed, bouncing a little. Pushing up onto my elbows, I look at him. The smile slides off my face, awe sinking its claws into my consciousness.
Dressed in all black and standing at the end of my bed. Muscles bulging and hands flexing loosely at his side. Backlit by the light in the hallway and tattoos standing out against his sun-kissed skin. The gun I know is tucked into the back of his pants and the motorcycle in my driveway.
He looks like an antihero plucked from the pages of my favorite romance novels.
I close my legs together, shifting them a little and letting them fall to the left. He palms my ankle, his grip light and loose, just firm enough to stop me from wiggling around.
“What're you doing, sugar?” he murmurs, voice smooth and low.
His new nickname tips up the corners of my mouth and I tilt my head to the side. My hair falls over one shoulder as I regard him.
“Waiting for you,” I answer, my voice equally quiet.
He stares at me for a beat, his gaze burning with intensity, before a slow smile spreads across his face. His gaze never leaves mine as he tightens his grip on my ankle and pulls me across the comforter, toward him. He doesn't stop until my ass is close to the edge, my one leg hanging off the bed and the other still in his grip.
He coasts his hand up my leg, his touch somehow both light and possessive as he rests my heel against his chest. His fingertips ghost over the top of my thigh, curving around to rest at my hip. His thumb smooths a line down the crease between my leg and pelvis. It's close enough to send my mind floating to dangerous places.
My breath catches in my throat and I swallow, my tongue gliding over my bottom lip. His gaze zeroes in on the movement, and he swipes his tongue across the swell of his own bottom lip. Almost like he couldn't help it.
His fingers explore further north, curling under the waistband of my cotton shorts. Everything inside of me tenses—including the breath trapped in my lungs.
His lips twitch and he murmurs, “Breathe, sugar.”
I exhale quietly, allowing myself time to get lost in his dark eyes. They look endless and rich.
He drags the waistband down, and I lift my butt off the bed to help him. His other hand grabs my other ankle, placing it against his chest. Now both of my legs are up, and I have no idea what's going to happen next.
Okay, that's not entirely true. I mean, I kind of know what's going to happen. Or at least, what I want to happen.
