Page 50 of The Bloodfeather Promise
Chapter Thirteen
I sold my soul
to the gods of rock n roll
But they got nothing on her,
Nothing on her.
She turns me out
with that sweet little pout,
And I’ll do anything for her,
Anything for her.
~Seven Seconds
Greyson
Ican’t believe this is actually happening.
Emerson looks at the hand I’ve extended, and with an almost pained expression on her face, she floats into my arms.
I envelop her. Breathe her in, reveling in that peculiar scent she wears. Cinnamon and sugar. And something else that carries the crisp freshness of a sea breeze. I still find it strangely familiar, but my thoughts are shoved aside because Emerson is in my arms.
My hands come up, bracketing her face, holding her, caressing the silky texture of her skin. I trace a thumb over a high cheekbone, and her brilliant blue eyes flutter shut. I should just take.Yes, take.Take what I want, consequences be damned. That’s been my M.O. in the past. But I can’t. I won’t. Not with her. Not with Emerson.
“Feather…”
She sways with the word as though the sound of it intoxicates her. Her eyes remain closed, but I’m having none of that.
“Open your eyes, love.” With the pad of my thumb, I stroke the fullness of her bottom lip, the small dip in its middle enticing me to explore it. I want to taste it using the tip of my tongue before sucking the whole of it into my mouth.
Her eyes flutter open, meeting my gaze unwaveringly. An element of surrender surrounds her, as if she’s fought this for so long and is finally giving up the effort because it’s too difficult.
“Do you want this? Do you? Because I’m going to kiss you and, unless you stop me, I’m going to keep kissing you. And I plan on doing much more. You are driving me crazy. I want you beyond all reason. But I won’t touch you unlessyouwant it, too.”
I know my words are breathlessly escaping from me. Hell, I’m probably babbling. Emerson frowns, the slight crinkling of her forehead and a narrowing of her eyes an indication she is considering what I’ve said. She wants me. I know she does.
I do not expect it when Emerson leans into me, lifting her face to mine so it nestles further into my palms.
“Please… Greyson… Please… kiss me.”
I do not understand the dizzying sense of deja vu that rocks me before her lips touch mine. Her whisper is inhaled into my lungs and settles somewhere near my heart. Then, I cannot think anymore as the heat of her, the sweetness of her, encompasses me. My mouth is fully on hers with my next breath and everything else melts away.
I kiss her. She kisses me. We kiss each other.
There is no flavor other than her, and none I remember before her. She is sweet. Like cool strawberries and wine. Shimmering and soft… so soft are her lips. So damned delicious. I can’t get enough. Like a starving man, I devour her. I consume her. I wolf down everything she gives me.
It’s not enough. The taste of her. The feel of her. The way she whimpers slightly into my mouth as I sweep my tongue against hers, deepening the kiss until I’m sure we are joined at the soul. I want more, more of her until I overdose on her splendor. I’ll gorge myself. I won’t stop chasing the next high she gives me.
I’ve not let go of her face; it is still clasped in my hands, her skin warm and velvety. Little tendrils of her hair escape the ponytail cascading down her back and are now clinging to my fingers. The force of my kiss, the press of my body moves us until we end against the wall of the studio again. I groan with approval. This is even better because Emerson has nowhere else to go. Our bodies mold together, my hips flush with hers, her breasts flattened against my chest. My heart might burst from the cage of my ribs as she lets me in. As hidden depths and swirling emotions bloom between us, a delicate bond is formed.
Her brightness and my darkness melt together. It’s better than drugs. Alcohol. Other women. I don’t want anything other than Emerson and all of her magic.
Tearing my mouth from hers, I brush a trail of fire down her slender throat, and every low moan that slips from her turns me even more rabid. I lick and kiss and bite until she is quivering, her hands tightening on my forearms. But I know her now, with this kiss. I know her and she isn’t clutching at me to make me stop. She’s holding on to me for dear life. I’ve become her lifeline in this storm and she has become my compass.
