Page 56 of When Hearts Awaken

My heart clenches as I take a good look at her. In this quiet moment, I don’t want to lie.

“Maybe it’s because you’re getting too close,” I whisper, “tearing down my masks like they’re nothing, torpedoing my defenses. Why you?”

Her lips part, a flush crawls up her face. Her eyes dart to my lips and her pink tongue slips out and I swallow a groan.

“I have a feeling you hate me because I see through you,” I murmur, fascinated at the way her pupils slowly dilate. “And you don’t really hate me.”

“N-No?” she asks, dazed. I graze her lips with my thumb.

“No. You’ve wanted to let someone in for a long time. Didn’t you tell me bottling up your emotions is unhealthy? Surrounding yourself with loneliness…that’ll kill you slowly, Tay.” I would know.

Her breathing quickens, a flush crawling up her neck, and there’s that tongue again, wetting her luscious lips, the sweetness I can almost taste.

Fuck.

I want more.

“Let me in, minx,” I rasp.

I want her to stare at me like this—vulnerable, defenseless, trusting. I want her to look at me like I’m someone she can take a chance on, someone she can depend on, someone who won’t disappoint her.

Unable to help myself, I reach out and tuck a few wispy strands of hair behind her ear, relishing her soft shiver when my finger grazes her cheek. So soft. So silky.

She’s so goddamn beautiful.

The air in the room thickens with tension. The fluttering in my heart morphs into a maddening rhythm as my pulse riots in my ears.

I want to hold her and kiss her—watch her come apart in my hands.

“You and I both wear masks—yours are made of fire and mine of ice,” I whisper. “What would it feel like if we take them off…together?”

Her dark lips part. Those perfect plump lips, made for kissing, biting, tugging. I want to smear her dark lipstick on her pale skin—I’m the artist and her body is my canvas.

Taylor swallows, her face flushed. “I’m not wearing a mask,” she whispers as I lean in, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

“It’s okay, you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” I murmur. “I understand.”

How would it feel to be burned alive? Was this how the moth felt when he stared into the enticing glow of the intoxicating flame?

Her eyes widen before dipping down to my lips. She lets out a shuddering exhale, a small sound escaping from her throat. I feel that vibration all the way down to my stiffening cock. Reaching out, I glide my hand over her arm, skimming the goosebumps pebbling her skin. My other hand curls around her nape, my fingers digging into the tender flesh.

Taylor whimpers, her eyes fluttering shut, and with a guttural groan I seal my lips over hers and taste the fire at the source.

Fuck, she tastes like heaven. Sweet and addictive.

Her hand flies out and clutches my suit jacket as I angle my body toward her, afraid to spook her, afraid she’ll fly away if I push too hard. My lips tangle with hers—a slow dance—the beginnings of our own sensual tango. Her fire spreads to my veins and the blood inside me simmers, then boils.

She lets out a sweet moan—the same one I heard when we were dancing the Argentine tango—and I take advantage and lick the seam of her lips before invading.

I need more. I need everything.

Grunting, I curl my arm around her waist and haul her on top of my lap. I fist her hair, tugging it out of her bun and wrapping it around my wrist as I deepen our kiss.

“Minx. You drive me insane,” I mutter as we break for breath. My other hand clamps her round ass so she sits on top of my lap, aligning her legging clad pussy on top of my aching cock. “I’ve fantasized about this for so long, kissing these dark pouty lips, and nothing compares to reality.”

Taylor whimpers, her sounds driving me wild. Her hands flutter to my chest, and I pull her tighter against me as I take control of the kiss. The beast inside me roars to life, its talons extending, clawing, needing more.

Conquer. Obliterate. Immolate myself with her fire.

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