Page 115 of Creatures that Breathe

Death is my only escape, but even that is impossible. I won’t force my tattoos on Atlas’s throat.

“You’re not,” she says again, her declaration a feather against my chest.

I curl my fingers around the edge of the table behind her, dig into the polished wood to keep from grinding against her, from clutching and squeezing and taking everything I want as her lips slip across mine.

She sighs softly into my mouth, hands finding their way around me, tugging me closer. The wood creaks under the pressure of my hold.

I turn us away before I break it and walk her backward to the bed, reminding myself this is for her protection, not my satisfaction.

Why are you enjoying it so much then?

Monster, remember?

In truth, I want nothing more in the realm than Leni’s safety, except perhaps, for her body, her mind, except her soul stamped into mine.

One evening. She’s given me only one with her body and I’ll be damned if I won’t cherish it. Give her happy memories and endure the torment of temptation a little longer before I begin the hunt for her prince’s black heart.

With a small lift, a whisper of lean back, Leni’s on my bed.

Bare legged, knees caught on the bed’s edge, my mouth waters, I push her legs apart and slot myself in the opening as I admire her. Desire sends a flush deep from her neck to her ears.

She stops me with a featherlight touch. “I couldn’t find underwear,” she confesses shakily. Sweet with her blue hair and tattoos and steel determination. Sweet as sin. “And,” she inhales deeply. “You’re fully dressed, so it just feels …”

I strip off my shirt, kick away my boots. I’m halfway naked when a laugh escapes her. “Is that what you wanted?” I ask, smiling, unzipping my pants. “Does this make you feel better?”

“That was the fastest I’ve ever seen anyone get undressed.” She goes pink again. “Not that I’ve ever—”

“I’m glad to hold the title.” Credit to her after all. The allure of her makes me frantic.

I press my lips to the side of her neck, set my hands on her thighs, resting, not squeezing like I want, but gentle. There’s no question, as I smooth my palms under her shift, but she nods anyway, eyes fluttering shut, surrendering to the slow river of desire weaving between us. A growl grinds deep in my throat, heat building in my groin, scraping through my abdomen.

Careful, I remind myself.

I kiss her again, needing the taste of berries and champagne. Through her shirt, her nipples pebble against me. Sharp contrasts to the rub of the soft cotton on my bare chest.

At her thighs, I send my hands higher, barely touching her, splaying my fingers where her thigh meets her hip bone, thumb achingly near to the center of her. She moans. Burning need arcs through me like Zeus’s bolt.

I have to pull away from her mouth to puff hot breaths against her hair. I glare at the headboard, counting seams in the wood to stabilize the roar in my blood. “What do you like?” I ask, voice like gravel.

“Just … uh …” Her cheeks flush the closest to red I’ve ever seen. “Can you just do what they like? The others?”

So fumble around for a pantaloon hole like some desperate horn dog? “No, Leni, I want to know what you like.”

Her cheeks flush even deeper, almost mortal. “I like … everything you do.”

My little pyro playing with fire.

I spread her thighs further, slide my hand high between her legs and make a deliberate, swift sweep across the heated center of her.

Her gasp is loud enough to be a cry, as if an ember has hit her skin.

She’s wet. Despite the nerves, she’s beautifully, sinfully wet for me.

The tension inside me explodes into something nearly unbearable, more intense that the curse, hot and urgent, greedy.

I let go of her, rock back to my feet, stand while she lays out in the sheets, knees bent over the mattress, feet dangling. Red and black and blue. Gods above, it hits me square in the chest how incredible she is.

I clench my teeth, ignore the jump of the muscle in my jaw. “How about a game?”

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