Page 177 of Flirting with Darkness

Did it count as prey, as hunting, if I let him catch me?

I’d fallen still—I didn’t know when, only that I watched him come closer, closer, closer, hardly daring to breathe.

And I didn’t pull away when he buried his fingers into my damp hair, claws scraping my scalp. I only gasped.

He lifted his chin and inhaled again, deeper, nostrils flaring. A slight vibration travelled from his hand to the back of my head, as though he made a sound so soft I couldn’t hear it. “I scent the desire on you.” He blinked, and when his gaze lowered to mine, it was dark, his eyes hooded and flecked with still more golden fire.

He knew. He knew that I craved touch, heat, gratification—him.

My breathing came in little gasped pants as though my lungs didn’t fully know how to work.

“I know this isn’t a real marriage; it’s only to keep you safe.” His gaze skipped from eye to eye, down my face to my parted lips, then beyond them to my throat and heaving chest. “But I want to satisfy my wife.”

I couldn’t move. Could barely think. The throbbing in my body thundered now—it was a wonder it didn’t rattle the floorboards.

Maybe… But… No… Yes…

He bent closer, and my lips tingled in delicious anticipation of his kiss. I swayed towards him. But he only brushed his nose to mine, taking another deep breath. When he exhaled, it shook, laced with a groan.

Somehow, my fingers found their way to his chest, tangling in the front of his open-necked shirt. They were already trying to answer for me. Tilting my head back, I took in air that tasted of mint and bay leaves, the familiar earthiness of tea, the rich warmth of evergreens, and something sweet I couldn’t quite place.

“You spend so much time worrying about other people’s needs, you don’t pay attention to whatyouneed. You don’t listen to your body or your desires. I can smell what you want, what you need. Let me provide it.” He shook his head. “Fuck, Rose, I’m yammering like a damn idiot, but I can’t help it. We may only be wed for a year and a day”—his nose brushed my cheek, my jaw, and his grip shifted on my hair, making me shudder—“but can’t I please you in the meantime?” He held still, hot gaze on mine, but I could feel the tension thrumming in his hand and chest and knew he was containing himself, waiting for my answer.

Perhaps I’d been thinking about this all wrong. Being married to him didn’t complicate things. It simplified them. We both knew we liked each other but that this is only a matter of convenience until I found Ari and took her home.

There would be no awkward proclamations of love.

I wouldn’t be here long enough for the tragedy.

This wasn’t a romance: we were telling a story of a different kind.

So I nodded. “Yes.” Gods knew how I formed the word, but it raked the air, raw in my throat with pure want.

“Hmm.” The flicker of a smile caressed his mouth, then it was on mine.

Hot and hard, he kissed me, just as he had in our shared dream. He kissed me with his lips, his tongue, his teeth, with every part of him—his grip coming around my waist, his body pressing against mine, his hand in my hair positioning me to his will.

Every part.

And when he took that new angle and deepened the kiss, tongue demanding, I gave.

I gave him my mouth. I gave him the whimper I’d bit back earlier. And I gave him the arch of my body as I sought every point of contact I could find. His belly, his chest, his hardening cock, the fronts of his thighs, and the glorious rasp of his stubble scraping my chin, making me his just as much as his tongue did.

By the time he pulled away, the world was a haze, my breaths ragged, my pussy wet and aching. I staggered forward, trying to stop him escaping, but he chuckled, the sound soft and dark.

“Don’t worry, my little flower, I’m not stopping any time soon.” He backed off a step. “This way.”

Hands on my shoulders, he propelled me towards the fireplace and pushed me into one of the armchairs.

I stared up at him, cheeks aflame—not with a blush or shame, but with sheer desire for the man standing before me, silhouetted by the fire. He could fuck my mouth right now, drive into me, gripping my hair, and I’d take every inch I could. He could give me that pleasure he’d promised, then take his own however he wanted.

As long as he made me come, I didn’t care.

He sank to his knees and kissed me again.

When he pulled away, I licked my lips. Honey. That was the sweet note I’d tasted on the air earlier. He must’ve been eating some of House’s honey cakes with his tea.

He hooked a claw under the edge of my dressing gown and pulled one side open, baring my breast to the air. The muscles of his jaw feathered as his gaze trailed over my naked skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

---