Page 121 of Fear the Flames
I bring my lips forward to kiss his scar, starting with the top of his cheek and trailing my way down, slowly, savoring the feel of his skin on my lips. His breathing catches in his throat the closer I get to his lips. I place my hands on his chest and feel his rapid heartbeat beneath my palms. He laces his fingers through my wet hair, keeping me close to him when I finish my trail. I slide my hands up and grip his broad shoulders. I press my legs together again, and one of his hands slides under the water, slowly trailing up my thigh.
“Why did you get between the dragons and me?” I whisper. His hand stills on my thigh, but the intensity in his eyes only grows. “Even after the arrow was shot, you could have moved away, but you didn’t. If the dragons directed their fire at us, they would have burned us both, not just you.” He would have died with me; he wouldn’t have saved me from the flames. This feels like another moment where we’re in our own world, with nobody else around us, and it’ll be like this the whole night. We’re prone to sinking into each other when we’re alone.
“Because…” Cayden trails off, pressing his lips together and looking like he did when we were standing next to the canal. He shakes his head slightly, and water droplets fall into the water surrounding us. “I couldn’t watch you die. I couldn’t watch you put yourself in danger while I stayed against the wall. Ever since I met you, my life has become brighter, and I don’t want it to get dark again. I was running to you before the arrow was even fired. I told you I would be with you in the end, and I would have run to you even without the promise.” We’re so close that there’s no way he missed my small intake of breath or the way my throat bobs. My hands tighten on his shoulders as I recall the way he shielded me.
I’ve got you, angel. I promise I’ve got you.
He knew there was no escape once he entered the circle, and yet he ran to me with no hesitation. It defies logic.
“Why wouldn’t you leave me at the river? You were freezing and in pain, and I wouldn’t have blamed you for it,” he whispers his own question, and there is no part of me that wants to shield the truth from him.
“I would rather die fighting by your side than flee your side. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let something happen to you. Not when you’ve protected me since the night we struck the deal. I hate admitting when I’m scared, but there is no place in Ravaryn that I fear more than Imirath, and yet I still wouldn’t have left without you.” He cuts me off from saying anything further when he leans forward and captures my mouth in a soft kiss. It’s hardly a whisper against my lips, but the amount of warmth it makes me feel could rival the frost that rages outside the inn.
“Cayden,” I breathlessly say after he pulls away. “We said we wouldn’t.”
“And yet, I can’t stay away,” he admits. “Do you want me to try harder to stay away from you?” His eyes stare into mine with deep intensity, but I know he’ll get off me if I deny him.
He’ll give me my space.
He’ll sleep on the floor.
But I don’t want any of that.
I want him.
“I want you to stop fighting,” I brush my lips against his, “but if we do this, I don’t want it to be a game.” I don’t want it to be something we can’t talk about or something we justify as using each other as a distraction.
“You were never a game to me,” he states, slamming his lips onto mine. I shift my legs from under me and spread them on either side of his hips. He uses the hand he has on my thigh to pull me forward and presses his hard cock into my sensitive clit. I moan into the kiss and wrap my legs tightly around him. He places both of his hands on my ass to support me.
His tongue slides into my mouth and dominates mine. He moves in slow, languid strokes like he’s trying to memorize the very feel of me without missing a single detail. It’s the kind of kiss I feel in every part of my body. I feel every stroke, every hitch of breath, every muscle constricting as he pulls me as close as possible. He lights every nerve on fire and makes all my senses tune into him. We disconnect our lips briefly, and I stare into his glazed eyes alight with desire as I press my forehead against his. He glides his wet, parted lips over mine. My core pounds for him, and I squirm in his lap, desperate for friction as he reconnects our lips. I grind my hips down onto his, but I need more.
The kiss becomes more urgent. He glides my clit over his length, and I claw at his back. I want all of him. Sensing my need without breaking the kiss, he grips my ass and rises from the tub with my legs wrapped around his waist. I tighten my arms around his neck and press myself into his hard chest, reveling in the way it feels to have him pressed against me with no barriers between us.
He places me down on the edge of the bed and lays me back against the soft blankets. He removes his lips from mine and trails them down my neck, pausing on the sensitive spots he knows I love. I cry out and arch my back off the bed, removing my hands from around his neck and weaving them through his wet hair. He groans his approval at my reaction and bites harder. I lock my ankles around his torso and try to draw him closer, but he doesn’t move. His thick arousal rests against my stomach, but I crave to be filled by him.
“You teased me at the brothel when I tasted you on my fingers,” he huskily states in between neck kisses. “Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about what you would taste like when I bury my head between your thighs.”
“You imagined me?”
A sinful smirk crosses his features, “Angel, you are the sickness of my thoughts, and I have no intention of finding a cure.” He moves his head lower and swirls his tongue around my erect nipple. His hand glides down my torso and dips between my thighs. He shoves two fingers in me, and I cover my mouth with my hand to suppress a scream of relief.
“Hand off or I’ll stop, and believe me, I don’t want to. You’re already so wet for me, but gods, have I missed your moans,” he confesses while hovering over me. Gliding his fingers in and out of me in a torturous rhythm, my legs are already shaking around him. I slowly lower my hand from my mouth. He rewards me by pumping his fingers faster, and I don’t suppress the moan that shatters through my throat.
“Good girl,” he praises and begins kissing down my body. He veers from my torso and moves to my sides, kissing my bruises tenderly while sinking to his knees. I prop myself up on my elbows, not wanting to miss the sight of him kneeling between my thighs or the look of unbarred hunger he wears.
“I’ve never been a religious man, but I will worship you in ways that the gods will envy.” He dips his head and gives my center a long stroke with his tongue. His eyes roll back in his head at the taste of me. His touch sets me on fire and turns my bones to jelly. I fall back on the bed and fist my hands in the blankets. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he groans while placing his mouth back on me.
I writhe beneath him, unable to keep my cries of pleasure quiet—but it’s like they charge him. The more I cry out, the more he rewards me with his tongue. His hands grip my thighs, and he pulls me further off the bed. My knees are bent over his shoulders, and I move my hands to fist his hair. I grind my hips onto his tongue, and he laps up my wetness like I’m the wine of the gods.
“That’s it, gorgeous. Take what you need.” My pulse pounds throughout my entire body. I want to surrender myself to him and never stop feeling like this. He takes a hand off my thigh and uses it to slowly pump his length. My eyes roll back in my head, knowing this is making him want me so badly that he needs to stroke himself.
“Cayden,” I moan.
“You have no idea how much I love seeing you like this, knowing I made you this wet.”
“It’s all for you,” I confess. It has been since I met him. I haven’t imagined anyone else when I touch myself late at night, where only the darkness could judge me for wanting him. His lips wrap around my clit, and his tongue flicks upward. My legs aggressively shake on either side of his head. My hips continue to rock against his mouth, chasing every ounce of pleasure he’s giving me. His swirling licks push me closer and closer to the edge. He quickens his pace, sensing that I’m close.
“Come on my tongue, my angel,” he commands.
