Page 109 of Possession

I sat up to help him, but he pushed me back.

“Bra,” he said darkly.

I reached around to release the clasp. His hungry eyes zeroed in on me as midnight wool and his white dress shirt whispered to the floor.

My lavender bra followed suit. I cupped my breasts against the cold. He pushed my hands away to lower his mouth to the tight tip of one nipple. I elbowed away my torch and tray of chisels then I held him tight to me.

His hair sifted through my fingers as he drew on me. There was no gentleness. His mouth was hot and wild against me, moving from one breast to the other.

He cupped them together and watched me as he gave them both equal attention. The abrasion of his beard and teeth shot me closer to an orgasm than it should have.

He rocked against me, but the lace of my panties and wool of his slacks halted his entrance.

The control that was always such a part of him was crumbling. I wanted the edgier parts of him he tried to hide from me. I didn’t want the perfect corporate Blake right now. I wanted the guy who knew the dark pockets of New York. Who could stand toe-to-toe with someone like Dante and not back down.

I arched under him, bumping my pelvis up against him. He braceleted my wrist and pinned it to the table. I wanted to touch. I wanted him to split me open.

I didn’t want to be a passive participant to his carefully engineered seduction. I loved that he wanted to make sure it was good for me. He never left me unsatisfied, but the more I knew, the more I wanted from him.

Every moment, every feeling that arced between us had a past and a present that had never quite met in the middle.

I dragged his mouth up to mine and curled my legs around his waist. We had a perfectly good bed upstairs. Even closer—the counter in the kitchen was meticulously clean and clear. God knew we’d made good use of that counter in the recent past.

But here, in the midst of my tools and glass, my metal shavings and the burn-scarred wood under my back—this was the perfect moment.

The truth we’d been itching and scraping to find.

The elemental piece we’d been missing was hiding here under the forest-framed sky, in a glass box of secrets and half truths. His art, my art—all of it was a calamity of love and insanity, creating a perfect moment I couldn’t have imagined at the start of this night.

I hated him.

I loved him.

I was in awe of him and the emotions I didn’t even know I was capable of.

I twisted my wrist until I broke away from his dominating grip. Instead of allowing him to back up—I could see it in his posture, in the tension that suddenly infused his shoulders—I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

“Inside me, Blake.” I dragged my teeth over his bottom lip. “Stop treating me like glass.”

He cupped my face. “But you are.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not. I’m as strong as you are.”

He pressed his forehead to mine. “Stronger.”

“Then treat me like I am.”

“Just because I want to be careful with you doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re strong. You know that, right? I’m careful because I couldn’t live with bringing you any more pain.”

“I want all the pieces of you. Even the ones you don’t trust.”

He frowned. “No, I?—”

I cut him off with my mouth. “All of them,” I said against his lips. He breathed hard against my mouth. The hint of mint and intimate flavors of Blake melted on my tongue as I urged him to believe me. “All,” I said with an open-mouthed kiss.

He jerked at his belt and the clasp of his suit pants. Instead of crowding me, and covering me, he eased back, dragging me off the table as his pants snaked down his legs. “You want all of me? Even the parts that want to slam into you until I don’t know where you end, and I begin?”

“God, yes.”

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