Page 14 of Zylus

Obviously not interested in my answer, she kisses me again, wordlessly urging me to slide my tongue into her mouth. Her arousal scent is sweet and strong, commanding my attention as I wonder how forward it would be for me to offer to pleasure her.

When I realize my hips have taken on a life of their own and are thrusting in an insistent rhythm against her wide-split thighs, I rear back and grab a breath.

“Should we talk about this?” I ask.

Chapter Eleven

Misty

Words. Zylus just said words. Any minute now, my brain will register them. In the meantime, I’ll just bask in the sheer, hot intensity of this, the best kiss I’ve ever shared.

I’m molded to his rock-hard body. Between my thighs circling his waist, and his hands, now firmly clutching my ass, I’m tucked as tightly against him as possible.

His taste, his scent—aged leather and seasoned wood—are intoxicating. That green tongue was just deliciously exploring me. My pulse is pounding between my legs and my nipples are begging to be palmed, then plucked.

“Should we talk about this?” His words finally register.

Even though I know there are important words in that sentence, it takes me long moments to sort it out. Talk. I think that’s the salient word.

Should we? Should we talk? Ah, yes. I’ve known him less than a day. We’re now partners in this doomed remodeling endeavor. And… I’m not up to date on my birth control.

Birth control. That’s a pertinent word.

“Yes. Talk.” I reluctantly slide down his perfect body, jolting back to reality when my bare feet touch the cool wooden floor.

We’re caught in each other’s gaze, both nodding in agreement that we should talk. Neither of us is saying a word.

“Bad idea?” He ekes out a few syllables, his forehead now pleated with lines usually indicative of physical pain.

“Probably.” I return a few syllables of my own.

“We should stop?” Damn him. That wasn’t a statement. It was a question.

“Maybe.”Misty, that was far from definitive.

“Maybe not?” He cocks a very interested eyebrow. Then, to be even more eloquent, he tips his head. Clearly a suggestion wenotstop.

Birth control.My sane alter ego reminds me.You barely know him. You just saw a ghost. You’re probably still in shock.

Perhaps it was that last word that sucks me out of my hazy, lusty dream-self and pulls me back to sanity.

“Yeah. Stop.” I say firmly but letting him hear the reluctance in my voice.

Now that I’ve returned to reason, I have to grin at my handsome green roommate who is wearing nothing but a toga and a smile. A fanged smile. I can’t decide which way he looked more attractive: butt naked, or togafied.

We’ve kicked the covers around, so he chivalrously pulls the two piles farther apart, then remakes the pallets. As we crawl into our makeshift beds, we both accidentally-on-purpose manage to move them closer together again.

I smile when I see the extra bedsheet is still knotted over his shoulder.

Even though I got almost no sleep last night and today has been emotionally draining, it’s not hard to figure out why I’m too ramped up to sleep. My blood is pounding in my veins, not allowing me to forget how amazing that kiss was.

We both lie on our sides and gaze at each other as we fall asleep. Despite the shitshow that is my life, I haven’t been this optimistic in years.

I wake in the morning with the bright Hallion sun pouring in from the high, arched windows.

Even with the fire in the hearth that takes up half the east wall, it was still a bit chilly when we went to bed last night. It’s warm now. My eyes flicker closed as I contemplate falling back asleep. It’s only when I realize I’m surrounded by heated bodies that I bolt wide awake.

There’s a very large, very warm, very masculine body snuggling me from behind. A hand, fingers spread, is tucked against my belly. When I turn my head, I see Zylus’s perfect features relaxed in sleep, a lock of his long, black hair trailing along my neck and dipping between my breasts.

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