Page 129 of A Winding Wave of Magic
You smell like the Garden of Eden, he thought as he pressed his nose into the soft curls.I could die of pleasure with my tongue buried in your quim.
He made good on his word, setting me atop the table so he could devour me properly, sipping at my nectar, making a banquet of my pleasure. I’d have bite marks on my thighs before the night was through, so intent was he on consuming me completely.
The moon was high over Dublin, shining a silver stream as I shouted my ecstasy back to the stars.
Goddess, Jonathan thought as his mouth traveled back up my body, learning the map of my flesh until he stood between my legs.
I reached down to unfasten his pants, seeking the hard length of him testing the fabric.
Are you sure?His teeth worried one earlobe, demanding that I listen, even to his thoughts.
I grabbed his face and kissed him, eager to taste myself. To taste us.Please.
His growl was seismic.
It’s all I want, Cass. Everyday since I met you. Every night, I’ve had to stop myself from scratching at your door like a dog. Knowing it would be my ruin, knowing it would end?—
His mouth, poised just over my collarbone, paused. Another groan vibrated there, and a set of emotions marched through his touch, his kiss, and down my body like toppling dominoes.
Dread.
Sorrow.
Shame.
Fear.
“Fuck.” Jonathan pulled away, and every emotion vanished but my own aching want.
“What is it?” I was dizzy but in the best possible way. “Why did you stop?” Languidly, I reached out to bring him back.
Jonathan stepped out of reach. “No. We have to—” He rubbed his lips, as swollen as mine must have been, much like a cat scrubbing itself with a paw. “Stop.”
Lie. It had to be. I’d justfeltevery bit of that magnetic desire. Seen his agreement with my assessment: that it wasn’t like this with other people. Not for him. Not for me. We couldn’t stop now. Why should we?
I reached out again.
“Cass, I said no.”
With obvious difficulty—it was no use trying to hide it from me—he grabbed my shoulders and set me firmly on the other side of the chair. But the difficulty was all I could feel. He was back to shielding, but not very successfully. He wanted me just as badly as ever. His entire body was fiending for another touch, another taste, another hit of whatever drug I was to him, whatever magic was in me that had been calling to him from the beginning.
And he was saying…no.
Dizziness receded as I became more aware of exactly what he was doing, even if it made no sense.
My hands started shaking. I grabbed a blanket from the couch next to the fireplace and wrapped it around my naked body. Suddenly, I felt too bare, too exposed, and it had little to do with the need still racing through my body, dying to be released.
Jonathan, still clad in tented pants, stared at the floor, panting like he had just sprinted a mile.
“You are not seriously doing this again.” A chill started to rise through my body. I pulled the blanket more tightly around my shoulders, wishing it were him touching me instead. Hating that I wanted it so badly.
“It’s not a good idea. We’re both drunk. We’ll wake up in the morning to hangovers and regrets. You know it’s the truth.” His words were as wooden as the furniture, his body language suddenly stilted and closed, the lean, muscled form iced by moonlight.
I stared. What. Was. Happening?
“Why?” I demanded. “Give me one good reason. And if you say the…the beast or whatever you want to call it, then I’m calling bullshit. That beast and I have been tussling for the last forty-five minutes and loving every minute of it. I’m pretty sure we’re more than matched.”
His gaze lifted and those hypnotizing green eyes dilated with obvious yearning as he looked over my bare arms, the goosebumps rising despite the warmth of the room. Certain he wouldn’t push me away again, I started toward him again. But he interrupted me as soon as I moved.
