Page 91 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“That makes sense,” she admits, eyeing the moving walls warily.
I try to remove my shirt, but the cramped space makes it difficult. I have mere inches to work with.
“Let me help,” she offers. Her palms slide up my front, and my breath hitches. Every ounce of awareness in my body focuses on that point, seizing it, claiming it, drawing her into me as if she’s intangible, too.
I swallow hard.
Does she have to sleep in the nude all the time?
Hunger builds within me—craving, obsession. I should tell her to stop when her fingers work at my collar’s laces, but words fail me. All I can do is brace myself against the doorframe around her, ensuring I’ll take the brunt of any impact.
Her nimble fingers set my skin ablaze. My eyes flutter closed.
“Okay,” she murmurs. “Arms up higher.”
I comply, sliding my hands up the frame to above her head. Her touch skates along my sides as she lifts the shirt. I hold my breath, fighting arousal. If I let it in, there’ll be no stopping me. I’d crush her with my want, demolish her with my need.
I call her Calamity not for her actions but as a warning—a reminder of what I’ll do to her if I lose control. How did Fox manage? How does Legion resist? Thoughts of her taste consume me. I want to explore every inch of her mouth.Stop. Empty her from your mind.My fists tighten against the doorframe, creaking the wood.
“Bodin?” she whispers. “Are you okay?”
I want to fuck your mouth.“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You’re sweating.”
Because it hurts to hold myself back.“It’s hot in here.”
“You never get hot.”
Only around you.“You done?”
She makes a disgruntled sound but finishes removing my shirt with clinical attention.
“Got it,” she says, then adds under her breath, “Jackass.”
“What?” I glare down at her.
“Nothing,” she replies with a sweet smile that scatters my thoughts.
Those fuckable lips invade my dreams nightly. If I’m not having a nightmare about bloody canary feathers, it’s those fucking lips wrapped around my cock, hot against my throat, sucking on my earlobe, whispering filthy things she’ll do to me.
I know she can take it. I know she wants it. The worst part is that I know how eager she is to explore it. With me. With us. She needs to feel close, to sink into us as much as we do with her. The gods wouldn’t have given us anyone different. But they have fucked up timing.
This thing between us has to wait until our hive is whole, until we’re invincible.
“Put it on.” My command is too guttural, too thick with emotion, and I shut my eyes again. It’s dark now in our little hideaway, but her skin is luminous as if lit from within. Sometimes, I think it’s a trick of the eyes. Even the shadows can’t contain her for long. Our Calamity, she shines for us.
Catch our falling star.
A memory. A voice.
I sense movement beneath me as she puts on my shirt, but then she curses and jostles to the side. My eyes snap open, fearing she’s been caught, but she grabs my belt to steady herself. Her fingers dig into my waistband, brushing against the sensitive tip of my erection. I suck in a sharp breath.
“Sorry?” she gasps but doesn’t remove her hand.
Which means she felt it. She knows I’m hard for her. For a moment, I can’t move.
I glance down and see her silver head dipped, her shadowed shoulders swathed in my shirt. At first, some deep possessive part of me preens to see her wearing my clothes again, knowing my scent marks her again. But then I realize what she’s looking at.
