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The sounds of screaming, hacking blades, and sinister voices fade away until I can hear only our mated breaths. It’s like no matter how we pretend, some part of us knows and draws us back to each other again and again.
Our dueling lips meld until there’s no room to breathe between us.
Nothing left but the air sizzling between this kiss as my lungs grow tight.
I don’t care.
Tonight, I’ll indulge, even if I can’t be the man Elle needs me to be.
I can’t risk hurting her again, but for now I need to taste her more than I need to breathe.
Heat. Velvety skin. Lust.
The dark lusciousness of her mouth, so soft and reminiscent of the feeling of plunging into yielding flesh and feeling her arch against me. Her inner depths open to let my tongue probe and seek and claim within her. I feel every taste of her like I’m thrusting into her all over again, the cold of the theater vanishing when I’m just a thin shell over a dark roaring fire.
The way she submits to me.
The way she leans in and clutches at my shirt like she’ll take everything I have, if only I just give it all up.
Give.
Some warped, deep part of me wants to.
Some devil part of me wants to break myself into pieces until I can be just as open as her, meet her halfway, feel this thing unrestrained as I groan and sink deeper into her mouth.
Mine, goddammit.
Mine.
Just for tonight.
I capture her lips, biting them hard enough to leave my mark, loving how her sweet flesh gives and plumps and rises for me.
Elle spills a whispered moan and goes trembling against me, her mouth so ripe and waiting.
“August ...,” she breathes, and I taste my own name in her mouth. It’s never tasted this warm, this vibrant.
I’m definitely neither of those things.
That stark reminder of who I am—a stunted, broken thing who can only hurt her—dashes that heat and leaves me ice cold.
I break back sharply.
Fuck.
I feel like a human knife, all frigid edges, as she looks up with confusion. Then with a flicker of hurt, like a small animal hoping the carnivore won’t sink its teeth in.
“Elle.” I swallow hard. “I’m sorry.”
There it is.
Her smile.
Lovely as always, and yet now I know it’s not real.
“For what?” she asks brightly, turning to face the screen again. She nestles against me comfortably like nothing’s happened, her head resting against my arm. “At least now we can be sure it was convincing.” She glances at me from the corner of her eye curiously. “Do you think I should stay over tonight? Since we’re clearly still being followed.”
I look at her helplessly. I want to say something to bridge this distance, but what can I say?
