Page 46 of Tortured Soul
It shouldn’t work. But it did. As my fingertips grazed the soft skin of his chest, the throbbing in my head lessened. The buzzing in my ears stopped. A soft light started to warm me up inside.
His arms were away from me, his hands kept to himself.
I placed my forehead under his collarbone as my hands wandered on the expanse of his chest. I could hear his heart beating, his pulse quickening. His breath hitching when my nose then lips touched him next.
I froze when his hands carefully went to unzip my jacket. Slowly, like any rushed movement would send me running away.
Which I would have considered if I wasn’t so exhausted.
He slipped the sleeve down my free arm and I sighed in pleasure as my whole forearm was now plastered against him between our bodies.
Of course. More skin. I neededmore skin.
“Sleep,”he panted, pulling his hand back away from me. “There’s a lot we need to talk about tomorrow. No more running away. I won’t let you put yourself in danger like this again.”
I couldn’t fall asleep. Not like this. Not when I was so weak that I didn’t know if I would be able to wake up the next day.
I needed a little more. Just a little.
In a blink of an eye, my clothes vanished, leaving me in my—way too sexy for the situation—underwear.
His surprised gasp transformed into a pained groan as the soft grazes of my lips turned into kisses. The kisses moving from his chest to his collarbone. From his collarbone to his Adam's apple.
My tongue peeked out to lick the length of his throat and he growled, vibrating against me, bringing more light, more warmth. His skin was peppered with goosebumps, his arm tensing against his side, his hand fisting the fabric of his sheets next to his thigh.
“You’re torturing me,” he whispered, his breath short.
My fingers dug into his chest, nails scratching the skin and his whole body shuddered.
“I’m all about respecting your boundaries,” he said, his voice strained. “But if those lips touch mine, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold myself back. Not when you’re smelling like that.Please, don’t—”
He moaned again as I sighed in contentment, my breath fanning over the wet line on the skin of his throat.
What was he saying? I felt good. Better than I had in a while. My head was swirling again but for a whole different reason. Every place our skin touched, energy flew from him to me. Strong energy, accompanied with some of his thoughts, feelings, memories.
I forced myself not to focus on those, and they made no sense anyway.
“Fuck, blondie…”
His head fell back, offering me better access to his neck.“Don’t kiss her. Don’t touch her,” his thoughts echoed in my mind as I kissed, licked, nibbled on more of his delicious skin. “Fuck her into the mattress. Claim her as yours,” another, darker voice echoed. Images, fantasies of doing just that, invaded his mind and he groaned again, his hips moving forward uncontrollably before he stilled himself with another frustrated sound. “Temptress. Take her. No—no! Don’t ruin it.”
I felt sleepy. Content. Safe. And this time, when I relented and just snuggled against his chest to do what he suggested a few minutes before, the last of his thoughts were barely audible. Like a sound, really far away. But as I fell asleep, it still echoed in my mind. “Bind her to you. Bind. Bind…Bind.”
Chapter 15
Lola
Ijolted awake.
Where was I? This wasn’t my room…
This one was larger. A tad messier but clean at the same time. Its occupant probably lived here way before I even arrived.
My hands tightened on the sheets and I dropped my gaze to it. The fabric was gray, satiny. My hands let it go to slide over it, enjoying the softness.
But…where the hell were my jeans?
There was a desk near the far wall, covered with sheets of paper and old books, a small light turned on above it. Thick black curtains were shielding the room from the outside light, only visible through the sides and under the door.
