Page 65 of The Witch's Spell
“Back here,” I gasp against him. And when I open my eyes, I see that his glamour has fallen away once more. And he’s even more beautiful when he’s breathing hard and leaning over me, eyes following my every move.
I grasp his hand and pull him along after me.
The beaded curtain hanging in the doorway to Niamh’s back room clatters as I push through it.
Chapter 31
Aurora
SITTING AGAINST THE WALL, THE couch beckons, and I tug Thorne toward it. He offers no resistance. And when I turn us around so I can push him down onto the plush cushions, his mouth turns up into a smile.
“Think you could—” I start to ask, glancing toward the candles lining the many shelves throughout the room.
But they flicker to life before I can even get the words out, and Thorne needed not even turn away from me, didn’t have to lift even a finger.
I’m reminded again and again of his power, of the magic that bested even two ferocious shifters. And yet when I sink onto his lap, legs spread along either side of his hips, I see a gentleness in him, feel it in the way he reaches up to cup my face in his hands.
“Aurora,” he whispers, voice like wind through trees. If I close my eyes, it’s easy to lose track of what he says, to be convinced I’m standing amongst the boughs of an oak and it’s whispering sweet secrets into my ear.
“Thorne,” I say back.
He smiles. “I like when you say my name.”
“Thorne,” I whisper again, drawing the word out slowly.
He lets out a quiet sigh.
My fingers reach for the clasp of his cloak, a polished silver button nestled at the base of his throat. It comes away easily, fabric rustling softly while falling around us on the couch.
In response, Thorne frees the loop holding my cloak about my shoulders, then takes hold of it and lowers it to the floor at his feet. The cold air kisses my neck, making goose bumps rise along my skin.
Immediately, a fire roars to life in the hearth in the corner, tossing firelight across Thorne’s beautifully dangerous face.
In this light, and with the hunger in his eyes, he looks more like a predator than Faolan does. I almost reach for his lips just to pull them back and search for fangs. I’d not be surprised to find them.
“Come,” Thorne says gently, one elegant hand reaching out to wrap around the back of my head. “I wish to kiss you again.”
The pressure at the back of my head draws me forward. My eyes close as our lips meet. And I kiss him as longingly as he kisses me, as if each touch is somehow scorching and soothing at the same time.
Grasping for the hem of his tunic, I take hold of the fabric and begin to lift it over his head. He breaks our kiss at the last moment, and finally, I get to see his silvery skin in the light of the flames, get to trail my fingertips across his collarbones and watch his skin pebble in response.
I lean forward then, pressing my ear to Thorne’s chest. His heart is beating quickly, not unlike mine.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice a rumble in my ear.
Sitting up, I reach for his hand, then press it to my chest. His fingers brush my breasts through my thick winter dress, and between my spread legs, I feel his cock jump.
“Your heart,” I say, pressing his fingers more firmly into my chest. “It’s beating as fast as mine.”
“Ah.” He pulls his hand away from mine to trail his fingers across my breast, making my breath catch. “Well, that’s because”—Thorne sits forward and slips his arms around me, fingers finding the laces on my dress and loosening them so the fabric softens across my body—“I’ve wanted to touch you for days. Have had to touch myself and pretend it was your hand on my skin.”
At his confession, my cheeks blossom with heat.
“You . . . touched yourself? While thinking of me?”
Slowly, he eases my dress off one shoulder, gentle hands helping me to remove my arm from the long sleeve. The fabric droops, and he pulls it down just enough to free one breast. My nipple puckers in the chill air, then hardens further when Thorne leans forward and captures it between his lips.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs, not ceasing his exploration of me with his tongue. His hand comes up to cup my other breast, and he rubs my nipple through the thick fabric. I moan softly, barely audible over the crackling flames. Smiling, Thorne pulls away. “How else was I to survive having to listen to all of them fuck you while I lay in the dark, wishing it were me inside you instead?”
