Page 113 of When the Wicked Sing
“I wouldn’t want to cause a scene,” she gasped when his tongue caressed the sensitive spot below her jaw. He chuckled lightly before pulling back to meet her eyes.
“Your very presence causes a scene. A devastatingly beautiful scene. I’ll show you.”
Cool air swept over her skin as the rest of the dress fell away, pooling at her feet.
Mariana gasped when Dax lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.
He set her down on the edge of a desk splattered with old, dried paint and kept her knees tight to his hips. His eyes roamed every inch of her as though he was marveling at her beauty.
The strangest sensation rippled over her body. She blushed, suddenly hyperaware of how exposed her body was to him, the brush of her hair against her breasts, and the crown sitting heavy on her head.
The truth of what the crown represented still weighed heavily upon her. She reached up to pull it off, but Dax stopped her.
“Leave it. You’re a queen, and I’ll only treat you as such.”
Her breath lodged in her throat as they locked eyes.
This was the moment, she realized, when a siren found her fae. Her mate. And she would do anything to protect him. The weight she’d felt before lifted. Like a hand pulling her to safety from a rogue wave, Mariana realized how much his words, his presence, calmed the storm inside her. She was so in love with him, he’d never understand. And it terrified her.
Dax dragged his hands down her hips, over her legs, to her ankles, then stopped. He frowned and glanced down at the sandals on her feet.
“What have they done to you?” he exclaimed softly, making her laugh.
He released the straps and pulled the sandals off.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt cool air on her dangling feet.
“Thank you, I thought I’d never be free of them,” she confessed. Then Dax shoved her knees farther apart, and her smile dipped. It was then that she felt a different sort of storm building within her. The kind of storm that was pure anticipation and longing. The kind she could never deny.
She found the edge of his shirt and lifted it over his head, revealing the smooth, rippled muscle of his stomach. Marianalightly touched his chest, her hand settling over his heart. It was beating hard, and she slowly lifted her eyes to his. He was so close she could see the flecks of copper in his irises and remembered the first time they had been this close. Back when she was his captive, she wanted nothing more than to be released. Now, all she craved was to be trapped in his arms. To be pressed against him again.
He slid his hands up her hips, up the sides of her waist, until they grazed the curves of her breasts. Lifting them higher still, he settled them on either side of her jaw, his thumbs caressing her cheeks.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed.
His eyes darkened, and their lips collided.
Chapter 62
Aticklingsensationonher stomach woke Mariana. Soft sheets shifted as she stretched her arms. Blinking through her blurry vision, she looked down her naked body to find Dax before her on his elbows, painting her stomach.
Her mouth lifted, and she giggled, “What are you doing?”
His gaze remained focused on the paint when he replied, “Painting you.”
“Why?”
When his gaze met hers, she saw something there she’d never seen before: happiness. Pure, radiant happiness.
“Because you’re the perfect canvas.”
She released a laugh, her head falling back onto the pillow. “I’ve never heard you say anything like that before.”
“Well,” he said, dipping the paintbrush into one of the several little colorful jars on a rolling cart beside the bed. “It’s not the last you’ll hear.” The wink he gave her made her toes curl. She sighed as he went back to the masterpiece he was creating on her skin.
She savored the soreness throughout her body. His touch set her on fire. She never thought she’d ever feel like this.
Glancing down at him, she ran a hand over his head, loving the prickly feeling of his short hair but missing the soft length it was at before.
