Page 74 of A Match Made in Hell
‘Sath . . .’ I’m not supposed to be begging, but his name sounds like a plea in itself. ‘Can I touch you? Is that allowed?’
I’m already reaching for him, wanting to strip him bare, to smooth my palm over the planes of his chest, when his hand snaps up to ensnare mine. ‘Best you don’t, love.’
‘But –’
‘Willow.’ His voice is raspy. ‘Please. My self-control is hanging by a thread.’
I can’t help but be a little gleeful about that. ‘Really?’ I tighten my thighs around his hips, and he closes his eyes, grinding his teeth. ‘Who’s tempting who here?’ To annoy him, I add, ‘If anything, I’d say you’re going easy on me.’
His eyes flash open. They’re pure molten now, ablaze with power and heat and want, and I’ve almost certainly made a mistake. He smirks. ‘Challenge accepted.’
I’m picked up and thrown on the bed. My dress rides up my thighs, far too high to be decent, but Sath is already kissing a path up my legs, his mouth on my calves, the backs of my knees, my lower thigh, higher and higher, until his head disappears beneath my dress. I gasp as his teeth graze the sides of my underwear – I can’t remember what I put on, I was busy worrying about my dress, and oh my God, please tell me I had the sense to choose something lacy – but then his head re-emerges, which is simultaneously upsetting and wonderful, because as much as I liked where it was heading, he’s . . . adorable. His hair is mussed up, sticking out at all angles, and his cheeks are flushed pink.
As if on autopilot, I sit up, leaning towards him, towards that mouth, because I have to kiss him, Ihaveto –
He dodges me, pushing me down and settling on top of me. I writhe beneath him, almost out of my mind with want and need andemptiness; I say his name as he moves his mouth over my neck, sucking and kissing and dragging his tongue over my skin. It’s not enough. This is never going to be enough. He cups my breasts through the fabric of my dress, and I gasp, arching towards him.
The ache is too much to bear. Ignoring his orders from earlier, I set to work undoing the buttons on his shirt. He doesn’t stop me this time, shifting position to help a little, allowing me to slide it free from his shoulders. I run my hands over his chest, the ridges on his abdomen, the line of dark hair below his navel, before tucking a finger under the top of his waistband. He hisses, pressing against me, allowing me to feel what this is doing to him.
My mouth goes dry. ‘Sath . . .’ I remove my hand and curlit behind his neck instead, dragging his face to mine. ‘I want –’ I break off, frustrated, desperate to say the words. I was wrong before – I’m not the saint to his sinner, I’m simply the damned.
He stares at me, panting heavily. His gaze is unfocused and his hair is plastered to his forehead. The sheen of sweat gleams on both our chests. I’ve no idea how we got like this, grinding like teenagers, but the sheer force of restraining from this never-ending want is an exercise in itself. We’ll be Olympic medallists in not having sex at this rate.
Except, having sex is all I want to do, and I’m not bothered about winning gold.
His head lowers. My pulse rockets – apparently there are no limits to how fast it can get down here; I can only presume in the real world I’d be having a coronary at this point – because he’s finally going to do it, I’m going to have him, I am I am I am, but then he drops his head on to my shoulder and practically growls, ‘Fuck.’
I want to scream with frustration. How important is this concession of his that he’s willing to forgothis? ‘I’ve basically failed already. You might as well make it official.’
‘I told you.’ He nips at my shoulder. ‘You haven’t failed unless I fuck you.’
The thought makes me grip the sheets tighter. ‘So, wecouldkiss –’
‘What do you think would happen if we kissed? Would you be able to stop?’
He has a point there. I squirm. I needsomething. I’m aching and empty, and he’s right here, and I can’t remember a single one of the reasons why I’m trying to succeed in these tasks.
I roll over, balancing my head on my elbow and drinking in my fill of Sath, shirtless by my side. I cannot comprehend how I’m not naked at this point. It says more about his restraint than mine. I trail one finger down his chest. ‘If we didn’t stop,’ I say,‘what would you do to me?’
Shadows flicker in every corner of the room. Sath has turned predatory, a cobra poised to strike, every inch of him taut. ‘Think very carefully about whether you want me to answer that question.’
I shuffle closer, close enough for our noses to graze, our mouths inches apart. His breathing is steady now, no longer out of control. Probably because he knows I’ve lost it. He could do whatever he wanted to me and I wouldn’t stop him. We wrap our arms around one another, one of my legs tucking between his, but this isn’t a frenzied grope-fest, not any more. It’s sweet. Tender.
‘Tell me,’ I say.
His smile informs me it won’t stay sweet and tender for long. He draws a slow, lazy path up my arm. ‘First, I’d kiss you until you couldn’t remember your own name.’ He rolls on top of me. ‘Then I’d remove this ridiculous dress.’
I frown, affronted. It’s a perfectly nice dress.
‘I can’t think straight with you in it.’ He presses another kiss to my neck. ‘Then I’d . . .’
He shifts, tilting to one side to allow his hands access to the hem of my dress, to what’s underneath. One finger tucks inside my underwear, and I want to flinch away, knowing he’s going to recognise how badly I want him – as if he didn’t already – but when that finger pulls my underwear to one side and strokes up the core of me, he swears. Profusely.
‘Then you’d what?’ I ask, trying to sound casual. It would help if I wasn’t panting heavily.
Sath takes a moment, as though he too is struggling to form coherent sentences – personally, all I can think ismore more more– and then he dips that finger inside me. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to cry out. I bite my lip, fingers clutching the bed sheets, my entire focus going to the feelingof that finger filling me finally, finally, but it’s not enough, notnearlyenough, not when I can feel him hot and hard against me and I know how much better that would feel instead.
‘Then I’d do this,’ he answers. The finger slides out. In again.
