Page 40 of Forbidden Magic
“They’re ancient Fae runes. They must have been activated by a spell.” He doesn’t sound sly, but genuinely curious.
A nervous hiccup pops out of my mouth. “You did this!”
“I swear I didn’t.” He sounds sincere.
Whatever Mrs. Pembrooke did to me wasn’t so harmless. “What do they say?”
“My ancient Fae is rusty. Give me a minute.”
Four hot pressure-points explore my back like it’s a treasure map, and I’m literally melting from the inside out.
My head pounds from the heat, and I bite my bottom lip hard to keep from moaning when Cole unhooks my bra.
How sad is it that this is the most sensual moment of my life? Maybe if it wasn’t, if I was more accustomed to a man’s hand traveling down my body like he wants to remember every groove, I’d be able to keep a cool head.
Wake up, Jules. He’s making a move on you.
But I can’t stop it. I’m transfixed by the caress of his hand on my shoulder blade. The contrast of the cold metal of his rings against my boiling-hot skin is maddening. He leans closer, and the movement sends a cloud of his spicy, leathery scent into my nose.
My head bends forward when he reaches my hairline, the sensitive skin tingling in delight, and my eyes close of their own volition. A bead of sweat trickles down the valley between my breasts.
Cole traces a rune shaped like an infinity sign, then runs his fingers down my spine. “It’s a different page on this side.”
Maybe I’m allowed to lose my head.
I’ve got a Fae princereadingme.
Fists curled at my side, I wait for him to lift up my skirt, squeeze my ass, or sneak a hand to my front. I fully expect him to make good on his lengthy reputation.
I hold my breath when he gets to the hem of fabric at my lower back.
This is it.
I’m still undecided about what to do.
What I should do is shove him off.
What I want is muddier.
I don’t want to lose control. I don’t want my first sexual adventure to go around the rumor mill in less than a day or for everyone to accuse me of being another Fae groupie.
I hate to put that much power into Cole’s hands, mainly the power to hurt me.
A guy who apparentlycollectsvirginities.
That thought tips the scale heavily in favor of a violent resolution, but he’s still reading, his hands staying firmly insides the lines.
He’s mind-fucking me with courtesy. The lingering suspense makes me question which hand will stray, which path his sinful fingers will choose.
But he has to be working up to it, right?
According to everybody, sex is his middle name. I’ve seen him kiss at least four girls since I’ve been here.
Why isn’t he copping a feel already?
“It’s some type of binding spell,” he announces, his voice steady and calm like he’s staring at a piece of paper and not at all aroused or bothered by the crackling heat that’s threatening to floor me.
“What?” My mouth is pasty, my brain fragmented by his touch.
