Page 62 of Fear the Flames
“I can’t say those things.” I lick my lips while straightening my back to get closer to him. His lips part, and a shudder travels through him when I reach out to cup his scarred cheek. “Because if I were you, and you were me—I would have done the exact same thing.” I recall the anger that twisted my stomach when I realized his arm was hurt, and I don’t want to be alone in my corruption.
“Don’t lie to me,” he whispers as I stroke my thumb along his cheek.
“I will kill anyone that harms you,” I murmur, resting my forehead against his. His hands shoot to my hips, and he holds me tight.
“Careful, angel. You give a man a taste of salvation, and he might keep coming back for more.” His arms are shaking for an entirely different reason now. They’re shaking from restraint.
“Is that what I am to you? Your salvation?” I whisper, brushing my lips against his.
“If you are to be my damnation, it’s an end I’ll happily meet.”
He closes the gap between us, and our lips meet in a collision of pent-up passion. The softness of his lips betrays everything about him. Everything else around me disappears from the world as if it never existed in the first place; the only thing that remains is him. My hands snake around his neck and weave through his hair, deepening our kiss. A moan slips from my lips when his tongue enters my mouth, and any leash he had on himself vanishes. He pulls my hips forward and presses his hardness into the pulsing spot between my legs that aches for him. I whimper at the new sensation, and he groans against my lips. Gods, that’s the best sound I’ve ever heard.
I arch my back, wrap my legs around his waist, and am rewarded with another delicious, throaty groan from him. He kisses me like I’m the last woman in this world. His body fits perfectly with mine as he lays me back on the desk, and I roll my hips onto his hardened length. I gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to kiss down my neck, biting and sucking as he pleases while rolling his hips into mine, echoing the same needy movements I’m giving him.
“Cayden,” I moan as he sucks on a sensitive part of my neck. My fingers tighten in the strands of his hair, and my legs tighten around his waist.
He groans into my neck, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Gods, it’s true that the forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. I’ve been kissed before but never like this. This is the kind of kiss that reinvents the way you think of kissing. It’s the kind of kiss I’d kill for. I take my hands out of his hair and trail them under his shirt to grip his muscular back.
“Say my name again,” he demands, nibbling on my earlobe. But his name catches in my throat from the overwhelming mixture of his lips, our bodies grinding together, and the weight of him on top of me. I’m embarrassingly wet, and I’m so close to pushing off this desk and dragging him over to the bed. “I told you to say my name,” he commands again, sliding his hands down to firmly grip my ass and press himself into me harder.
“Cayden,” I gasp, writhing beneath him.
“Perfect.” His teeth graze over the sensitive skin on my neck and his fingers weave through my hair. “Did you enjoy the sight of me on my knees, angel?” he huskily whispers. I moan when he bites down and dig my nails into his back. “Did you think about what it would feel like if I fucked you with my tongue?”
My back arches off the desk as he licks his way up to my mouth. He crashes his lips onto mine again, and I pull on his shoulders, wanting him even closer. He bends further to comply as much as he can, given the desk is too small for him to get on top of me. His hands feverishly roam over my body, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of me.
I kiss him with the same ferocity with which he kisses me because, as he said himself, he’s the one man that can handle whatever I throw at him and give it right back to me. He’ll always echo my intensity and urge me for more. He’s a challenge, an ally, and rival mixed together. His soul isn’t too corrupt for me because I’ll be sitting right next to him in the afterlife, damned soul and all, if it means I can experience this again. To prove my point, I trace the raised scars on his back with my fingertips, and I’m rewarded with another groan and extended roll of his hips. The feel of his bare skin makes me feel alive. I’ve never reacted to someone like this. It’s addictive, and I can’t stop myself from wanting more.
“Commander, I have— oh!” a voice filters in from the front of the tent.
Reality crashes into me, penetrating the universe we briefly escaped into, and my body stiffens. Cayden doesn’t break apart right away; instead, he slowly parts our lips and lingers above me for a few moments, brushing his swollen lips against mine. I swallow the whimper that rises in my throat and force myself not to roll my hips onto his again, no matter how much I want to. He wraps his arms around my torso and straightens me up with him. I rest my dizzy head on his chest while we face the servant that carries a sealed envelope.
“You can leave the envelope on the table by the door,” Cayden jerks his chin toward a small table with a letter tray on it. His hands move in languid strokes down my spine. I’m surprised he’s still acting like this in front of someone else, but his hands feel too good for me to care.
“Of course, sir.” The servant bows his head before turning to place the letter on the tray. “Would you like me to assemble any of the generals to discuss the details?”
I glance up toward Cayden and see him saying yes before he says it. His eyes are still shadowed with the same exhaustion they were this morning; he needs to sleep. I poke him in the back before he can answer, and he glances down at me, quirking a brow before turning back toward the servant.
“We need a few moments,” Cayden states.
“My apologies, your graces.” The servant nervously twiddles with the end of his tunic while slipping from the tent.
Cayden turns back to me once the servant disappears. He removes one hand from my back and tilts my chin toward him, brushing his swollen lips over mine and smirking when he hears the small gasp it wrings from me. Gods, he affects me so much it’s embarrassing. Well, at least I affect him too … I havehardproof of that. A smile almost breaks across my face at my dirty joke, even though it was terrible.
“Are you okay?” he huskily mumbles. My core continues to pound, and my chest swarms in a fluttery feeling.
“Yes.” I match his quiet tone even though there’s no need for us to stay quiet.
“Do you want to do the communicating thing you seem to have a new interest in?” His eyes are lighter than they were before, and the sight of that eases something in me.
“We don’t have to do the communication thing right now,” I laugh softly.
He presses his forehead against mine, and it takes everything in me not to start kissing him again. It’s odd how natural this feels. “You’re going to have to write me a communication rulebook, angel.”
“You’ll just have to keep up, soldier.” His eyes drop to my smile, and even though he looks lighter, the exhaustion is prominent. “We’ll take the meeting in the morning. You need to sleep.” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I really love being the one to command the commander.
