Page 9 of Destined for Dreams
“You know that isn’t my only problem with you,” he replied.
She nodded. “Because I’m not ready to fully commit and let you make me immortal.”
That was a huge step and not one she was prepared to make—even with the angels sanctioning it. Cori had already lost loved ones and suffered enough during her thirty years of life, including losing her daughter. Could she really handle centuries of losing more people she cared about? She had to be damn sure she and Bartol could make things work before she even considered that kind of commitment.
At least right now she was merely long lived and would eventually die of old age within a couple of hundred years, give or take a decade or two. She could also still be killed by mortal blows or an accident if the physical trauma was bad enough. That made life more precious to her, knowing there would be an end. But if Bartol gave her his blood and she completed the transition to immortal, it would be next to impossible for her to die.
“You haven’t changed your mind,” he surmised, jaw hardening. “I can see it in your eyes.”
She wouldn’t lie to him. “No, but it’s not as if you’ve tried very hard to convince me it would be worth taking a chance with you.”
“Either you want it, or you don’t.”
Cori pulled her blue knit cap off, freeing her dark hair. It wasn’t long—just brushing her shoulders—but Bartol’s gaze fell to the wavy locks like a man who’d been starved of a woman’s presence for a long time. Good. He might not be acting all that receptive to her yet, but subconsciously he still wanted her. She unwound her matching blue scarf next. His gaze fell on her bare neck, and he moistened his lips.
“Oh, there are some things I want from you for sure,” Cori said, taking a step forward as she let her cap and scarf fall to the floor.
His shoulders tensed. “I’m well aware of that, but you know I’m not like other men. I willneverbe like them. It is the only reason I understand your running away, and why you should stay away—for good.”
There was pain in Bartol’s voice as he said those final words, true anguish from a man who’d lost hope and given up on himself. Though Cori was freezing and longed to move closer to the wood stove, she made herself keep going toward him. Just one more step. Now, they were only ten feet apart. She slid her gloves off next and tossed them down, leaving a trail of clothing behind her.
“Bartol.” Her voice came out soft and alluring. “I’ll take you any way I can get you—scars, psychological damage and all. That has never been my problem and never will be. I promise.”
He sat there, stiff and uncompromising in his seat. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You’ll want more eventually, and I won’t be able to give that to you.”
She couldn’t deny that not being able to touch him, caress him, or even run her lips over his skin didn’t bother her. More than anything in the world she wanted to do those things. But she’d seen the stricken looks and horror in his eyes the few times she made the mistake of touching him too intimately. He might have learned to hold her and touch her, but it would be a long road before she could do the same to him. Bartol claimed it would never happen, but she had to believe that someday—somehow—she could break past his trauma, and they could be together in every possible way.
Cori unzipped her winter coat, which ran all the way down to her ankles, and opened it wide. Bartol sucked in a breath as he caught a glimpse of her naked body. That had been the hardest part about tromping through the snow. She had all her usual outer clothes but nothing underneath, and it had nearly frozen her. With a small shrug, she let the coat fall to the floor. The only things left were her socks and high winter boots. Cori reached down to remove those next.
“Don’t.” Bartol jerked to his feet.
There was a loud crash, brilliant light flashed all around, and then she felt strong arms grab her from behind. In the blink of an eye, he had her face down on the work table—wiped clean in the last few moments—and his hands were sculpted over her ass.
“Are you certain this is what you want?” he asked with a growl.
She was getting more turned on than she could describe just by having her mate touch her after so many weeks apart. It was all she could do to breathe out one word. “Yes.”
“Then don’t move.”
Bartol leaned down and rained kisses along her back all while continuing to caress her buttocks and thighs. Cori moaned. Dear God, he knew how to touch her in all the right places. She reached forward and gripped the far edge of the table, bracing herself for whatever came next. The roughness of the table scratched at her nipples, hardening them. And the cold? It was steadily being forgotten as the nephilim behind her raised the heat in the room with his touch and his gaze.
“You’re a fool,” he said, kneeling behind her.
Cori let him spread her legs far apart. “Just don’t stop.”
His warm breath tickled her thighs. “I don’t plan on it as long as you remain like this.”
A slick tongue ran up her leg until it reached her moist folds. He dashed out a lick and then another. She gripped the table hard, afraid she might break it. Despite the awkward position, Bartol was making it work well. He was getting her so turned on that if she didn’t have the table to brace herself, she would surely fall.
Two fingers slid inside her, and she let out a hoarse cry.
“You’re so wet I could take you right now,” he said.
“Do it.”
“Not yet.” He continued moving his fingers deep within her as he rose to his feet. “You’re not getting me that easy.”
“Please, Bartol,” she begged. Every night she’d dreamed of being with him again like this and woke wondering if it would ever happen. Part of her wanted it to last forever, and another part wanted him to speed things up.
