Page 119 of Creatures that Breathe

“Gentle, Leni,” Cross repeats, sounding the opposite, sounding broken.

“I know what I asked for, but now I just want you.”

He hits me with a hard stare. “You’re only saying that because you think I can’t do it, but I can. I’ll do this for as long as you like, however you like.”

I gesture wildly at the wall of slithering black. “You’re losing control.”

“Then, tie me up. You use me. You might have to pin me down again, but I can take it. Luke still has the chains.”

My stomach flips over in a way that makes me want to throw up. “You’re never being chained again.” Ever.

He nods, scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Rope then.”

“No!” I erupt, an edge of hysteria creeping into my voice. “Sweet Hera, no. No rope or chains or handcuffs. You don’t need to be bound to touch me.”

“I do,” he whispers, not looking at me. Sooty strings of candle smoke circle him, drawn to his heat and power, licking at the grooves of his cheeks, his bare chest. He glares at his palms like they’ve betrayed him. “I’ll hold the bedposts—”

“That won’t work.”

“Then we don’t work. Not even the will of the Gods can grant me the control I need with you. You’re my …” He bites his lip, shakes his head like he’s in anguish.

“Cross.” I shuffle down the bed. The soft rustle of the covers hit him like breaking glass. He winces, pulls back. I reach out and catch his cheek, touch featherlight.

It’s an instant reaction, how he freezes, turns his mouth into my hand to press rough lips into my palm. The heat of his skin radiates through me, coiling in my chest, simmering in my throat, lashing between my legs. “You’re not gentle, and can you believe that I’ve never once been afraid of you?”

“You have,” he whispers back. “When I lost control, I hurt you.”

A tickle compared to what I’ve endured. “I’ve certainly tried to be afraid,” I admit, scooting closer, until my knees are tucked between his thighs, tile cold and slippery against my calves. “What respectable creature finds a male who shoots a gun without looking charming? And who in their right mind wouldn’t be horrified at the sheer number of weapons you strap on every morning? But you’ve never truly scared me.”

The obsidian in his eyes turns to swirling ink over the gray. “Just wait.”

I bite my lip and coast my hand down over the edge of his jaw to cover the black on his throat. “What I’m failing to explain is that I am no respectable creature, and the way I crave you, the things I need from you, they aren’t gentle. Not in the slightest.”

“Not in bed,” Cross argues, Adam’s apple bobbing under my palm, tone full of longing, of insistence. “Between us, like this, you do want gentle. I know you do—”

“I want you, Cross,” I declare fiercely. Obstinate. “The ruthless male who protects me. Who makes me laugh. Who rescues me.”

He shakes his head so hard, his curls bounce. “I am not that man.”

I scowl. “You are twice that male. You’ve opened my eyes to what I want. Before you, I dreamed for a gentle lover because I assumed the opposite of Draven was best.”

Fury whips into Cross’s face instantly. “I’ll kill him.”

That’s not what this is about.

It was. Before.

This is for me now.

I press my forehead to his and give him a raw, holy confession. “I see your eyes when I close mine. When we’re apart I miss the way your hands mold around mine like ribs cradling a heart, and when I think of kissing you, the air constricts in my lungs and I get so lightheaded, it hurts.” I meet his gaze. “And I like it.”

The force of his swallow hangs in the air. “Leni.” My name coated in shadow.

I push tighter to him. “If you’re gentle with me, it feels like none of what we have is real. And I know it is.” I’ll tattoo it everywhere to prove it.

Watching me, he swallows hard, too stubborn to agree, no argument to be had.

“Give me you,” I plead. “As you are.”

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