Page 44 of Veil of Death and Shadow

Not breaking eye contact, I slid my tongue forward until I tasted him. His skin was cool and salty, tinged with the lightest layer of smoke.

His lips parted as he watched me, clearly just as affected as I was by the spell weaving between us.

Emboldened by his evident desire, I pulled his thumb into my mouth, swirling my tongue over it as I sucked.

He hissed. “Bloody fecking hell.”

Heat blazed in his eyes, and I gasped when he pressed me closer to him. He was hard against my pelvis. Very hard.

For a moment, we stood still, both holding our breath and waiting, until I couldn’t wait a second longer.

Leaning up, I pressed my lips to his.

He didn’t move at first, didn’t react.

I pulled back, embarrassed. “Sorry, I?—”

And then, like a rubber band that had been pulled too tight, he snapped.

His lips crashed against mine as he dug his fingers into my back, my hair—like he couldn’t get close enough.

When his tongue parted my mouth and found mine, I groaned at the warmth and taste of him.

Fucking hell, I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever felt desire this strong—this demanding.

One hand gripping my waist, he slid me up his thigh and I nearly came from that small pressure against my clit.

A low, needy moan pulled from my throat as his lips sucked their way over my jaw, down my neck. I didn’t even care who might see or hear us.

“Tell me what you want?” He whispered against my skin and the ache between my thighs deepened at the clear heat in his tone.

“Touch me.”

He froze for a moment, his lips at the hollow of my neck, his hand tangled in my hair.

The hand gripping my waist pulled back and I instantly felt the loss of his touch. Until I felt his fingers trail down the outside of my left thigh, my entire body erupting in tingles wherever his skin met mine.

He slid his hand beneath my dress, tracing up my inner thigh until his fingers met the lace of my underwear.

I gasped as he pressed down on me, my desire liquid hot and obvious as hell.

He groaned against my neck as he slipped a finger beneath the lace, stroking me.

“You’re fecking soaked.” His voice was strangled as he slid his finger inside of me.

I whimpered when he pulled it out, then stepped back, putting a few inches between us.

His breathing was heavy, his eyes a violent storm.

My protest must have been clearly etched across my face.

“I can’t fuck you,” he said, his eyes wide and wild with need as he glanced around.

I followed his gaze, and noticed the bartender watching us, body stiff, head tilted as if in warning.

“But—”

“Not in here.” Kieran shook his head, his eyes darting down to the band on my wrist.

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