Page 47 of Stolen
She grins, stepping back. Cool air slips between us, and I hate it.
“And this is me saying yes,” she says, reaching for the hem of her gown.
I don’t wait. I can’t.
So, I pounce. I drag her temptingly plump body to mine.
So damn soft.
“Tell me why first?” I ask, and yes, I still want to kick myself.
What am I doing giving her an out?
Asking questions when I should be claiming her?
“Because I trust you,” she says, and that damn near breaks me.
“I’m not safe,Myrrin. Not even close.”
Her reply? A soft, wicked little kiss and a whispered, “I didn’t say you were safe. I said I trust you.”
A pause. A flutter.
“So, what are you going to do with me now that I said yes?”
Her voice is a caress.
A challenge.
My chest tightens like a fist around glass, because she doesn’t know what she’s just done.
What it means to trust someone like me.
A Demon.
A liar.
A Lord of Illusion and hunger and too many secrets.
But gods help me, I’m going to take everything she’s offering.
And then some.
I drag her back to me, one hand slipping around her waist while the other fists in her hair, angling her mouth so I can claim it again. The way I want to.
Roughly, deeply this time.
Our kiss ignites like dry lightning across a velvet sky.
Her dress is gone with a flick of my fingers, magic shredding silk like water against rock.
She gasps as I lift her easily,possessively, cradling her thighs around my hips as I walk us to the bed.
“Myrrin,” I murmur, reverent and ravenous, “I’m going to worship every inch of you.”
She laughs softly, breath catching as her back meets the bed.
“You talk like the villain in my very own fantasy novel starring me.”
