Page 80 of Cursed Dreams
Then he shoved his face into the curve of her neck, groaning like a man barely holding on.
“Your scent,” he growled, voice muffled against her skin, “it awakens the beast in me.”
Thalia’s fingers tightened in his shirt, heart slamming in her chest, breath ragged and lips parted, his words sank into her skin, branding her more surely than any magic ever could.
The beast in me.
Her entire body trembled under the weight of it, of him, his mouth grazing the delicate skin of her throat, his breath hot, ragged, like he was barely keeping himself from unravelling entirely.
She wasn’t sure when her hands had tangled in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, grounding herself against the storm of sensation he’d ignited. But now, feeling the restrained power in every line of his body, the tension coiled like a predator beneath his skin—she couldn’t let go if she tried.
“Vaelith…” she whispered, voice half a plea, half a curse.
He groaned her name like it undid him. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped, dragging his mouth up the side of her neck, barely brushing her jaw with his lips. “You think I’m cold. Distant. You think I don’t care.”
His thumb traced the curve of her waist, firm and slow, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
“You are inside me, Thalia. Buried so deep in my thoughts I can’t sleep. Can’t focus. I see you every time I close my eyes.”
Her knees threatened to give out, but his body held her pinned, solid, burning, the evidence of his need pressing against her. Gods, she wanted him.
The tension between them was unbearable, hot and suffocating and electric. She lifted her head to meet his eyes, breathless and shaking, lips parted in silent invitation.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and his jaw clenched like he was restraining himself with everything he had.
“I shouldn’t,” he said, voice strained and thick with want. “You deserve more than this. More than me.”
“Then stop looking at me like that,” she breathed.
“Like what?” he murmured, brushing the tip of his nose against hers.
“Like you want to devour me.”
He chuckled softly, dark and aching. “I do.”
His mouth crashed down on hers again, slower this time, deeper—deliberate. A kiss that wasn’t just hunger, but possession, longing, desperation.
He kissed her like she belonged to him. Like he didn’t care if he burned for it.
His hand slid to the small of her back, pressing her flush to him, and she gasped against his mouth, feeling just how hard he was for her.
Every brush of his lips, every stroke of his hands, spoke the same truth, he was losing control. And gods help her, she didn’t want him to stop
Vaelith’s breath was ragged as he pulled away from her lips, his hands trembling where they held her. His gaze burned into her, fierce, reverent, desperate.
Slowly, deliberately, he dropped to his knees before her.
Thalia’s breath hitched, heart hammering in her chest. The sight of him like that, powerful, commanding Vaelith, kneeling for her. It sent heat rushing through her, so fast and so sharp it made her dizzy
“I need to taste you,” he rasped, voice thick with hunger. “Just once. Let me have this.”
She didn’t answer. She couldn't. She simply nodded,
His eyes molten gold, hands gripping the curve of her thighs throwing them over his shoulders, like he’d found sanctuary between them.
Thalia’s lips parted, her heart thundering as she looked down at him, this man who was always composed, cold, infuriatingly unreadable, now undone, kneeling for her.
“Let me taste you,” he whispered, the words scraping from his throat like a confession. “Let me worship you.”
