Page 81 of Fear the Flames
“Do whatever you have to do to make it believable. Lie to me, touch me, just make it look like we’re truly here for pleasure and nothing else. We can just pretend tonight, say whatever you have to say. Make me believe you.” I raise my shaky hands to the buckles on his armor, slowly undoing them.
“Believe me, when this night is over, nobody in this kingdom will doubt how much I want you.” His lips trail my jawline, and my nipples harden against the soft fabric of my shirt. “I’ll make it undeniable, but I also have a condition.”
“What’s that?” I choke out, his lips are sending my senses into overdrive.
“Seal the deal with a kiss in here first.” His hands slide against the bedding, one weaves in my hair and the other snakes around my waist. “You wouldn’t put a plate in front of a starving man and tell him to take it slow.”
I tilt my head up and meet his lips. His exhale fans against my cheek as if he was holding his breath until I kissed him. His hand tightens in my hair and around my waist, shoving my softness into his hardness. It’s nothing like how our first kiss began. This one is urgent and feverish. His tongue doesn’t seek permission, it dominates me with every stroke. His lips move against mine, matching my passion and amplifying it, forcing me to give him more of myself.
I yank on the buckles of his armor. I want it off. I want to feel him. My frustrated growl vibrates against his lips, and he softly chuckles, removing the arm from around my waist and helping me with the buckles and straps. Gods, I needed this. I’ve needed more of him since the night I discovered what kissing him feels like. Dancing with him at the ball was slow torture—being so close to him and not being able to do this.
He removes his hands and his lips from me to straighten out, and a pathetic sound of protest leaves my lips. He tips his head down, giving me a quick peck before straightening out again, detaching the armor and arm guards from his body, and pulling his undershirt over his head. My eyes dance over every inch of him, every scar and freckle, every groove in his muscles.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he commands, voice thick with lust.
“Why?” I rasp.
“Because we’ll never leave this bedroom.”
I slide down to the edge of the bed and let my legs hang over the side. His hands tilt my chin up to look at him and move to massage the back of my head. “What about my knives? I never go anywhere without them,” I inquire.
“I’m keeping my sword on me, but I can tuck your knives into my holsters if it makes you feel more comfortable.” He detaches himself from me when I nod. I watch his back muscles shift while he walks toward my discarded pile of clothes and knives, picking two from the pile and sliding them onto his thighs. A wave of desire washes over me at the sight of him wearing my knives.
“Ready?” I ask, rising on shaky legs and walking toward the door. He snakes his hand around my waist and kisses the top of my head in confirmation.
“I’ll be watching your back the whole time.”
He doesn’t wait for me to audibly reply before opening the door and leading me down the hall. The scent of rose lingers in the air, most likely to mask the smell of all the people in here. I can understand the appeal of a place like this; everywhere I turn has a dark aura that makes me want to escape and hide for a few hours, letting the darkness mask every one of my sinful acts. People crane their necks in our direction, taking in the pair of us. I figured we would get a few stares, but this feels like we’re the main event. I wonder if my assassin has spotted me yet.
Cayden sits down on one of the loveseats that are made for two people. My heart pounds in my chest when he looks up at me and lightly places his hands on the back of my thighs. He trails his long fingers up and down while he sits up to get closer to me. He presses his lips where my top ends and kisses a line down my stomach to where my panties begin. Each kiss ignites something in me. I exhale shaky breaths through my parted lips. I don’t want him to know how much his kisses affect me. He’s only just begun touching me, but I can already feel my panties growing wetter. He makes me feel like I’m a living flame, and he’s the oxygen that’s feeding me.
The touch on the back of my thighs becomes assertive, and he yanks me forward to straddle his lap. He looks at me with the same soul-devouring expression he gave me when he first saw me in this. I hover above him; I don’t want him to feel the pulsing sensation in my core. We agreed that this would be fake, but my body’s reaction to him is undeniably real.
“Are you sure this is okay with you?” I ask, my limbs stiffening with nerves.
“No, it’s not okay.” I feel myself shrink inside, and my cheeks heat in embarrassment. I place a hand on his shoulder to push myself off him, but he places both hands on my hips and brings my body down to straddle him completely, with no space between us anymore. “This is perfect,” he nearly groans.
He tightly wraps his arms around my waist and leans back in the chair, bringing me with him. His hard bulge presses against my soaked core. My cheeks stay heated for an entirely different reason. He slides his fingers up and down my spine, causing me to arch into him. I grind my hips on top of his, and he leans his head against the back of the love seat, letting out a low groan before sitting up and bringing his lips to mine. I weave my hands into his hair and continue to grind our hips, loving his reaction to me.
He was right to get our crazed kiss out of the way. This kiss is slow, sensual. It’s the kind of kiss you share when you know you’ll have more. The kiss in the room was a frenzy of passion and tension, and it made me want to rip his clothes off. But this kiss makes me want to peel his clothes off slowly and put my mouth on every inch of his body as the clothes drop to the floor.
I continue to slowly rock our hips together and dance my fingers over his broad shoulders, savoring the feel of his skin. Our lips part slightly, but neither of us back away. I rest my forehead against his and open my eyes, only to find his already open and gazing at me. Our eyes slide shut after a few seconds, and lips meet again in a brief closed-mouth kiss that feels remarkably intimate.
He leans back in the chair, and my body leans with him. My head rests against his shoulder, and I curl myself into him while his fingers dance up and down my spine in long, relaxing strokes. To anyone else, we look like a regularly intimate couple.
“You’re good at your job,” I mumble. Our hearts are beating in tandem.
“I have a gorgeous motivator,” he whispers into my ear and kisses the side of my head.
My teeth sink into my lip to suppress my smile, and I nuzzle into him before sitting up, even though being held by him feels surprisingly right. The assassin needs to believe we’re completely enraptured with each other. We may have stopped moving our bodies together, but the tension has in no way lessened. The longer he looks at me, the more it builds between us.
His hands travel from stroking my back to stroking my thighs. I shudder and grip his shoulders as he inches closer to my panty line. A corner of his lips lift in a smirk. He slides a hand on the back of my neck and the other behind me to pull me closer to him again. His lips make their way to my neck while he has me in this possessive hold. It only makes me wetter. I can’t suppress the moan that leaves my lips when he bites a sensitive spot. I grind our hips while his face stays buried in my neck. My hands snake around his shoulders and lean back. He leans with me, taking advantage of the power I’m giving him. The hand he has on my hips travels to my ass, keeping me grinding. Sparks fly behind my eyelids every time my core brushes over him. His hold on me feels like he’s telling everyone in here that I’m his and that they can look if they want, but they can’t take me from him.
“Do you think—” Cayden bites my sensitive spot while I’m speaking, which cuts my sentence off in a moan. I lightly smack his shoulder. “Don’t be a bastard,” my tone is as breathless as I feel.
“What did you call me?” His hand squeezes my ass, urging me to speak.
“Bast—ahh!” He sucks on the spot while bringing us up to lean back in the chair again.
