Page 43 of Scythe & Sparrow
Every time I want to bury myself deeper in that same cocoon that seems to smother me, he tears through it. When I want to lie, I find that I can’t. The best I can seem to do is to leave out the truth. But this time, it feels like there is nowhere to run. Not with the way he watches every nuance of my body. I’ve already given away more than I could ever hide.
“No,” I whisper as I shake my head. “Not really.”
He doesn’t look surprised by my answer. And if it’s a reply he doesn’t want to receive, he doesn’t let on about that either. Nothing in his expression has changed. He still holds my leg as though he might simply turn back to his task and breathe this torture across my skin. “Is it not helping?” he asks.
“No. It’s not.”
He nods, as though this is the answer he expected. “What would?”
I could say the crochet hook. Or cutting the cast off. Or enough alcohol to knock me unconscious. I look down at his hand on my thigh, then back to his eyes. “Not that,” is all I can muster.
Fionn’s eyes are lightless. I feel as though I’m ensnared by them. Like there’s no way I can free myself. And the way he looks at me? It’s as though I’m exactly where he wants me—pinned by his unflinching stare. “What would help, Rose?” he finally asks.
We watch each other. The connection between us never breaks. Not as I lift my hand from where it’s gripped to the edge of the couch. Not as I slide my fingertips down my short skirt, not as they trace my thigh. Not as I lay my hand on Fionn’s. At first, I think nothing about him has changed. But then I see it, the quickeningpulse in the artery that lines his neck, the subtle tightening of the corded muscles of his shoulders.
He could stop me. But he doesn’t.
I wrap my fingers around the edge of his hand. I don’t take my eyes from Fionn’s as I slide his palm up my thigh, inch by agonizing inch. The world around us falls away. The only thing I see is him as I guide his touch across my flesh.
His attention doesn’t stray from my face, not as my motion pushes up the hem of my skirt and our hands climb higher. Not when I slide his fingertips over the lace edge of my panties. Not even when I move at an excruciatingly slow pace to draw his hand down to my center, where the fabric is warm and damp. Only then do I stop, my hand pressed over Fionn’s, my clit throbbing with need beneath his touch.
He still doesn’t look down. I don’t know what will happen when I lift my palm away. Maybe he’ll stop. Tell me how this is a terrible idea. He’s my doctor. He’s invited me into his house out of the kindness of his heart. He’s tried to help me, but this isn’t what he had in mind. I fully expect that response.
But that’s not what happens.
Fionn’s gaze doesn’t break from mine, his touch still on my pussy. With his right hand, he slowly lifts my ankle, pushing my leg into the air so he can duck beneath it. He lowers my leg to rest my cast over his shoulder.
“I … I can’t offer you a relationship, Rose,” he warns.
Something about his words stings deep in a hidden cavern of my heart. But why should it? It’s not as though I could stay, even if I wanted to. Not with Matt lurking around. He’s clearly a little too interested in my presence here. It’s not safe for Fionn if Ilinger. And I definitelydo notwant to stay, no matter how much I romanticize moments in this small-town life. This is just a crush, that’s all. On adoctor. All smart and kind and sexy. On a town. It’s cute, with the welcoming people and the rowdy fight club and the knitting grannies who take no shit. But my home is on the road. In an RV. In a big top tent. Flying through a metal cage. A person like me doesn’t pick a relationship over that kind of life. And a person like Fionn doesn’t choose a relationship with someone like me.
I soothe the little sting with a shrug. “Never said I wanted one.”
Fionn nods. He seems relieved. “Then we need to have rules.”
“Maybe can we make some when your hand isn’t on my pussy? Because right now is not the best time to form logical thoughts.” Fionn lifts his hand away, and a crushing wave of unanswered need courses through my veins. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”
“Rules first. We don’t want to fuck this up before we even start.”
“Fine,” I say as I roll my eyes. “No … cuddling.”
Fionn nods. “Okay. That’s a good one. No kissing on the mouth.”
“No sleeping in each other’s beds.”
“No holding hands or PDA.”
“No pet names. But Doc doesn’t count. You’re just …Doc.”
Fionn breathes a laugh, the warmth summoning goose bumps as it fans across my skin. His molten eyes soften, just for a moment. “And we’ll check in with each other, yeah?” he says, and I give him a faint smile. “We’ll just keep talking.”
“Right.” I nod. My head keeps bobbing, my lips pressed into a tight line, every muscle in my body coiled tight until a hiddenwire inside me snaps. “Except for right now. With all due respect, Dr. Kane,” I say as I fold one hand behind his head, “shut the fuck up and eat my pussy.”
He laughs. But it’s dark and deep. His eyes are wolfish on mine as he lowers his head between my thighs. The first press of his mouth to the fabric covering my pussy ignites liquid heat in my chest. It sparks a craving, a need. But need is a venom. It burns. It claims. It conquers and defeats you. And I surrender to it. I forget everything about who I am, where I am, what this is. I just wantmore. More of his hands wrapped around my flesh, pushing my legs wider. More of the way he rumbles a throaty moan when I rake my nails across his scalp and grip his hair. I even beg for it when he bears his mouth down on my clit, still sheathed beneath the damp, silken fabric.Please. Yes. More.
When I drop my head to the back of the couch, he still watches me. Every time I look down at him, he’s waiting, a magnet ready to snap me back into place. He wants me to watch, I can tell. It’s in the crease that appears between his brows, the way he lavishes me with ravenous kisses through the thin material. He keeps my broken leg slung over one shoulder and then slides his hands up my thighs. One keeps going, slipping beneath my shirt to trail a path of tingling heat up my belly, to the center of my chest, to the hem of my bra. He pulls one of the cups down and runs his thumb over my nipple, coaxing it into a firm peak.
“Rose,” he whispers. He pulls my panties to the side and lavishes my clit with his tongue until I close my eyes. I’m panting, sinking into a euphoric haze. “If you—”
