Page 120 of Creatures that Breathe

“You have no idea what you’re asking.” He gathers my hair in his hand, fingers molding to my skull. “I’m of the Blackguard, not the Kingsguard. Not anymore.”

“You’re both.”

With that, my spymaster kisses me with intent to devour me, as if I’ve unlocked the last of his defenses, solved the riddle and found the missing corner of the map. He groans low in his throat, and I rise up to meet him, throw my arms around him and bring our chests together. Cotton against granite.

Shadows spear over the ceiling, dancing as he lifts me, how he always lifts me, by the crease of my thighs, no need for me to help, and drapes me back across the bed again. He flicks his tongue against mine, big hands cradling my face.

My heartbeat begins to appear in odd places. My eyelids, my lips, my belly.

“Tell me”—he grates out against the hollow of my throat, tongue punishing— “the moment you want to stop. The second it’s too much, if I do something you don’t like.”

“Yes.” Agreeing is mindless. Cross won’t let it get that far. If he senses I’m unhappy, he’ll stop. Try his best to fix it. That’s who he is.

The spymaster sits back on his heels to study me, knees anchors in the mattress. Stunning. Candlelight soaks his skin, caressing and strange, his eyes a wicked illusion of entangled midnight blue, slashes of green.

Colorful.

The effect is like a spark, a hot shock of desire rocketing up my spine. “Please, Cross.”

“Don’t ever beg for me.” A smirk and then he dips his head again, tongue flicking my bottom lip before his teeth graze there. His lips follow. And the kiss is filthy and hard. Sucks the oxygen out of me, tips me into a lightheaded haze.

Rough, sure hands stroke me everywhere. Tugging on my waist, clasping my thighs, wresting into the collar of my shirt and ripping it down.

Tearing it in two.

I inhale sharply, instantly slick between my legs, pulsing with liquid heat.

Hot, strong fingers press on the ridges of my spine, arcing me until I’m suspended entirely in his arms, thighs hooked around his hips, ankles wide buried in sheets as he sets his mouth to my breasts. Every stroke of his tongue is twofold, sensation shooting through me and the rumbling curl of it through him. He knows exactly where to touch, where to put pressure and ease, how to tease and torment.

He bites lightly over the side of my breast and my body jerks. I stifle a moan.

Yes, this is exactly what I wanted.

I try to keep up, chasing the pulse of his tongue, bending into his mouth, grinding helplessly against the rigid length peeking out from the band of his underwear.

I don’t even know what I want, but I’m positive Cross will give it to me. And you can bet all the ambrosia on Olympus, I’m taking it.

Lost and light, I feel nothing like myself, free, building up to a life-changing peak, reaching out for it.

He rips it away.

One minute I’m swimming in sensation: his hands making fire prints on my back, his hot breath on my peaked nipples, the distinct scrape of teeth against Better and Alone, and the next, his hands are peeling the torn shirt down my arms, lifting me again, twisting me.

Plunging me headfirst into the pillows.

Lips scorch the expanse of my back. The warm sweep of his tongue tracing the tattoos dancing along my spine. “Tell me about these,” he rasps against my skin, hand snaking its way into my hair, fisting it, turning me to watch as his teeth catch my shoulder blade.

This.

This is what I wanted. Commands, not hesitation.

It feels so right, it’s almost wrong. I knot the sheets, digging into the thousand thread-count like its single use as I squirm and babble, blindly detailing each cluster of names.

Wide hands yank my hips into the air, knead my ass, spread it. I’m completely naked, panting, exposed, and fluttering, as helpless and hot as the little candle flames left.

“You’re such a good girl,” Cross murmurs against the base of my spine before he bites down, mouths a searing path across the swell of my ass cheek.

A sound I’ve never made before escapes my teeth, chased by Cross’s low, mischievous chuckle.

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