Page 70 of Chain Me
“You’re in no state to be alone,” he murmured against my flesh, but his tone made me recoil. Soft again. Deceptive again. He sounded too much like he cared. “That’s why you are this way.”
“I’m always alone,” I pointed out, my voice hollow. “Always. Even my sister…” I couldn’t even say it. “And I’m dying, and I’m scared, and I’m alone. I’ll always be alone—”
His mouth found my lips, sealing them with a single motion. I faltered, flicking my tongue against his. It wasn’t fair. His taste teased my senses, a tempting drug, potent enough to take the pain away.
It hurt. My heart. My head. I couldn’t focus on everything Dmitri had said all at once or I’d go insane. Iwasgoing insane.
“Look at me.” He gripped my chin, tilting my head back, and met my gaze. His tongue traced his lower lip, reminding me of a predator wondering where to strike first on vulnerable prey. “You asked me once, why someone like me might be attracted to someone likeyou.” He brushed his thumb against my mouth but nothing more.
I inhaled raggedly, wanting…needing. Something. Anything.
As if aware of that, he angled himself even farther away from me. “I suppose that’s part of your appeal. Your innocence. You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”
I bit my lip as our gazes connected. His burned, impossibly bright.
“Your smell. Your taste. You pretend that I bought you from Raphael to rescue your delicate soul from any other, but deep down, you know the truth: I wanted you for myself.”
“Lies,” I croaked. It was all I could say.
And he laughed. “What did I promise I’d do the next time you countered me?” He pretended to mull it over, stroking his chin, even as he advanced.
I held my breath.
With deliberate slowness, he fingered the delicate silk over my shoulder. Then he tugged, easing the fabric down until my breasts threatened to slip free. “I said I would strip you naked.”
I watched in slow motion as my dress continued its guided descent. I didn’t recognize my body anymore. Flushed pink with arousal as if coming to life for him alone. Even as my mind was in turmoil.
Even as the world shattered beneath my feet, I belonged to him.
“And you questioned…” He shook his head, eyeing me the way one would a feast. Someone starving—but there was a flaw with his meal. Frowning, he grazed my cheek with his thumb, smearing the tears still streaming down it. I could see his thoughts shift—lust becoming pity. The contrast made my head hurt.
So I lunged forward, risking my balance to reach for the fastenings of his pants. “I don’t want to think,” I confessed as he stiffened. “Please. I don’t need coddling or sympathy. I just want…”
Sensation.His mouth on mine, his hands between my legs, delivering a dose of pleasure so potent that I’d shudder, arching wantonly into his touch.
Grays did not perform or require physical acts of comfort. We endured. “A strong inheritance is the only embrace you ever need,” my mother used to say.
So he didn’t hug me. He merely held me close instead. Close enough for me to cling to the front of his suit as though I were drowning. Close enough to bury my face against his chest and smother whatever sounds I made. I was shaking—that’s why his arms tightened around me, keeping me there, keeping me from completely breaking apart.
His hand caught my throat, but there was no violence in the gesture. Guiding me to face him, he met my lips with his. Chilling. Frozen. Distracting. My arms went around his neck, drawing me further into the kiss. Sloppy, bruising, skin against teeth.
I needed more. Only this could make the harsh interior of the theater and the agony in my chest disappear. Only he could make it stop. With more pain—his teeth grazing my tongue. His hand plunging between my legs.
More. More. More.
I rocked my hips into every touch, not giving a damn for anyone around to hear the groan that tore from my lips. It clashed with the opening lines of the orchestra. The opera was continuing, somewhere in another realm that felt eons away.
In my world, there was only him. Ice and fire. Skin and silk, twisting, rubbing, claiming.
Dublin.
“Please,” I croaked as he withdrew. My fingers shamelessly reached for him, clinging to whatever they could. “Please, I need you—”
He stood and snagged my wrist to haul me upright after him. One shift of his weight shoved me against a wooden sideboard pressed against the wall. It held only a vase of roses, which he easily batted aside. Then his hands gripped my hips, hauling me onto the smooth surface while he forced his bulk between my legs.
I spread them easily, allowing him to peel back the sleeves of my dress. My body spilled out from the silk, eager for his touch, and he devoured me with ravenous, groping hands.
My nipples stiffened for him, roughened by the merciless sensation of his chest against mine. Our mouths reconnected. Devoured. Fabric tore. Cool air assaulted my skin, preparing me for ice as he undid the fastenings of his pants. The flat of his hand caught my lower back, dragging me closer as he lunged, entering me in one thrust. Hard. Brutal. No mercy.
