Page 49 of Consume Me
Chapter 16
Kendall
Three days later, I’m balancing a tray of food against my hip, nudging the bedroom door open with my foot. The room smells like Noctan—pine, earth, and something masculine that curls around my senses in a way that feels like home. He’s sprawled in the massive bed, bare-chested, a blanket tangled low on his hips. His eyes flick toward me when I enter, and the first thing I notice is that he looks about five seconds from chewing through the walls.
“Brought you some food,” I say, setting the tray down on the nightstand.
“Finally,” he mutters, voice deep and gravelly, though I can tell the bite in it isn’t really about the food.
I sit on the edge of the mattress, my knee brushing his thigh. “Still grouchy?”
“You were gone a long time.”
“I had to work. Natalia doesn’t care that we saved the world from evil daggers. She wants inventory done, like, yesterday.”
He scowls at the ceiling. “I hate this.”
“This?” I echo, tilting my head.
“This.” He gestures at himself—at the slow healing, the bruises still faintly marking his ribs, the fact that he’s still here instead of on his feet. “Being mortal. Weak. Trapped in bed like an invalid.”
“You’re not any of those things, and you know it. You’re recovering from demon poison. And you’re a terrible patient.”
“Or I just need more time with my favorite nurse.”
I smirk, leaning back on my hands so he can’t reach me. “This is what it’s like for the rest of us, you know.”
He scowls. “I thought you said I wasn’t like anyone else.”
“I don’t ever remember saying that was a good thing,” I shoot back.
His mouth curves in the faintest smile, and I can’t resist leaning in. My lips brush his—just a whisper at first, a soft thing meant to soothe and tease all at once.
His hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, and when he kisses me back, it’s no longer soft. It’s hot, demanding, hungry in a way that makes my pulse trip over itself.
My hands find his shoulders, feeling the strength there even in recovery, the tension coiled under his skin. He shifts closer, and my knees slide along the mattress until I’m half in his lap.
The kiss deepens, and I’m drowning in him—his taste, his heat, the way his breath changes when I nip his bottom lip. His fingers trail down my spine, slow and deliberate, andI shiver.
When his hand slips under the hem of my sweater, I pull back just enough to look at him. “Are you feeling up to this?”
The corner of his mouth lifts in something wicked, and before I can blink, he grabs my hand, guides it under the blanket, and wraps it around him.
“Why don’t you tell me?” he says, his voice rougher now, darker. “Do I feelupto it?”
My breath catches. He’s hard.Gods.Hard and thick and so fucking tempting.
“You feel…” My voice hitches. “Perfect.”
His eyes flash—satisfaction, desire, relief all tangled together. “Is that your medical opinion?”
I laugh. “Both. I’m mixing business with pleasure.”
“Finally,” he growls, and when I sit up, intending to straddle him, his grip tightens on my hips.
In one swift movement, he rolls us, pinning me beneath him.
The weight of him, the solid heat of his body pressed along mine, makes my head spin. His mouth claims mine again, and this time, there’s no hesitation. His tongue strokes against mine, coaxing, claiming, tasting me like he’s been starving for it.
