Page 45 of Hopelessly Teavoted
Azrael sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t think anything could ruin the friendship.”
“What if I wanted to pretend we were more than just friends?”
He swerved a little, and she was grateful that the road was empty.
“Holy shit, Vickie, you can’t just say that when I’m operating four thousand pounds of murder metal hurtling down a highway.”
“Sorry, but I’d like to call the first pretend.” She traced a finger down his thigh, over the material of his pants. He kept his eyes on the road but swore softly.
“Fuuuck you. Respectfully,” he moaned. “Vickie,” his voice ground out, hoarse enough to drive her fucking crazy. “Vickie.”
“Shh, Azrael,” she said, tracing a finger through his hair, and down to play with the collar of his shirt. Her fingertips played along his shoulder bones, and he let out a deep sigh, shifting in his seat.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, but he reached out and slid a hand from her knee to her upper thigh, squeezing tightly before returning his hand to the wheel for a particularly sharp turn.
CHAPTER 13Azrael
The drive home was exquisite and excruciating. Vickie ran a hand along the back of his neck, curling her fingers into the hair at the nape of it, sending jolts of feeling through his spine. Az’s left hand twitched, oddly warm. He wanted her with every fiber of his being, every thread of his magic, every bone in his body.
Pretend, she had said. Devil damn him, he’d pretend anything if she’d let him put his hands on her. His heart could break a thousand times over in the morning, but it would be worth it if she let him pretend with her all night.
Vickie placed her left hand on his right, and the ring on his other hand throbbed, along with his heart and, well, other parts of him. He wanted to pull the car over and fuck her right there on the side of the winding road, but it was too dangerous. Until the gravedirt wore off and they figured out what the devil was up to, there were too many unknown factors. And yet the only unknown he cared about was whether Vickie wanted him in this moment as badly as he wanted her. Azrael had to get his shit together and stay focused.
Any thought of control eddied from his mind as Vickie’s fingers traced a pattern on his thigh. She had to have noticed how hard that made him, the outline of him straining against his tight jeans. Her fingers snuck closer, and he groaned,unable to recall what had seemed so urgent a moment ago. He felt overheated.
Azrael stole a look at Victoria’s face, and the spots of color on her cheeks confirmed it.
She wanted this as much as he did. Well, almost. He wasn’t sure anyone could want anything the way he did in this specific moment. She shifted in her seat, removing her fluffy pink jacket.
“What are you thinking?” Her hand drifted to the back of his neck again, and he shuddered. Her fingers felt warm against him. So, so warm.
Shit. There was no lying.
“I’m thinking so much went wrong and we should talk about it, but all I want to do is pull this car over and make you say my name until we can both forget the complications for a moment, and then deal with them later. If you want to pretend, I’m thinking I’ll pretend so fucking hard you see stars. I’m thinking about the way you felt all those years ago. I’m trying to remember, and wanting you to refresh my memory.”
Her soft gasp undid him, along with the way her hot fingers dug into his neck now. Surely this counted as distracted driving.
“Do it. Now. Pull over.”
The command rippled through him, a burning spreading like ink and madness through his chest. He felt too much to possibly express in words, so he pulled onto the shoulder where it was widest, the moon glinting off the concrete. The road was empty at this hour, but he snapped his fingers so that the windows darkened anyway, feeling the shade reach into his soul, carving her name there for the thousandth time.
“Victoria,” he said. Each syllable of it was an exhale that took him closer to the height of ecstasy, along with the pain, that the gravedirt had wrenched from him.
“Yes,” she breathed, unbuckling her seat belt and sliding over the center of the seat to straddle him. The heat of her was so good, so urgent, that it was almost unbearable.
Both her hands were on his face now, and she laughed at the insistence of the steering wheel behind her, scooting closer to him. When she lowered against him, even with layers between them, grinding her hips down, he thought he might come, hard, just from the hot pressure of her, the way her chest rose rapidly, betraying her thoughts as well as any spell.
“I don’t want you to do this for the wrong reasons. Why are you doing this?” he asked, even if the answer might hurt him, as she pressed kisses against his neck, tearing his need from him in breathy groans. Each place her lips touched seared his skin.
Her truth could hurt him now, it could scald him, but he needed it before he dug his fingers into the soft skin of her body and released all that he was feeling and had ever felt into the abyss of wanting.
Her breath hitched. Goddess, she was fucking extraordinary. How had he ever touched anyone else and not thought of her? How had he ever stopped thinking of the smooth slide of her skin against his fingers? She whispered the words on his earlobe, lips grazing against him. “I’m doing this because I want you and I need you, more desperately than I should,” she said. He froze, running his tongue over the words carefully to make sure he hadn’t imagined them. And she kept going, while magic that could not be undone blossomed in his chest. “Because all of that outweighs all the hurt, and I can’t bear the thought of the next few moments in this car without the sweetness of your skin against mine and the feel of you on me and in me.”
Damn. The way she moaned when he pulled her against him in response carved his erection in marble.
He reached for her now, kissing her deeply, left hand twisted in her pale pink shirt, almost the color of her skin as he moved his mouth down, lower, tongue stroking across her neck and worshiping her collarbone. Her soft little gasps threatened to undo him. He had to focus.
“I want you,” he murmured against skin that tasted likesweetness and belonging, the only kind he’d ever felt in his soul. “I want you so much, Vickie. I always have. All that I am is yours.”
