Page 13 of Master of Games
“Would you mind putting some jam on a biscuit for me?” he said between sips.
“Of course,” she answered, setting down the tea and slicing a biscuit on which she slathered some strawberry jam.
She carried it toward him, attempting to place the biscuit in his hand. But he caught her wrist instead, and directed the food, still in her hand, toward his mouth.
He felt her pulse pick up speed under his fingers as he took a large bite, one of her fingers brushing his face.
A dab of the jam fell onto her hand, and swallowing his bite, he shifted the angle and then wrapped his lips around her skin, sucking off the sweet, red juice as he lightly nipped at her flesh.
If her pulse had been racing before, it beat frantically now, rushing against the pads of his fingers.
He smiled against her skin.
This was going to be fun.
Tabbie’s heart beat like a drum in her chest as Ironheart sucked at her skin. What in the world was happening?
She’d seen Ironheart conduct a seduction, but she’d had no idea how that might feel. How the touch of his lips on her skin might make every sensible thought leave her head, only one idea remaining that was not sensible at all.
More.
She wanted more.
Which was ridiculous. She knew exactly who this man was, exactly what he wanted, and precisely what he’d do after he got it.
And as much as she’d like to bask in his attention, take this one rare opportunity, she could ill afford what would happen after she gave herself to him. Rejection was an emotion she’d felt far too keenly. To lose his affection would crush her.
She understood it plainly, despite how often she’d told herself that she needed no man.
Her body would submit to his, because it was starved for this sort of affection and then…her heart would break.
She tried to tug her hand from his grasp, but for a man who’d claimed to be feeling weak, his grip on her wrist was amazingly strong as he held her hand in place, kissing down the outside of her palm to the sensitive skin of her wrist.
She hardly moved, barely breathed as he dragged his teeth along her flesh. Dear lord, but he was good at this. At making her pulse rise and filling her with a breathless want that quieted every voice of dissent.
The best she could do was sit still, silently allowing the onslaught to her senses. His hand danced over her skin, moving toward her elbow and his lips followed.
Thankfully, she still wore long sleeves and his progress was stopped before he reached the marred skin of her scars.
Scars.
It was this thought that finally broke the trance, and giving a good tug, she pulled her arm from his grasp. “Ironheart.”
“Caden.”
“Ironheart,” she repeated, this time through locked teeth. “You must keep your lips to yourself.”
That made him smile, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I shall try, but you taste delicious covered in jam.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
One of his eyebrows rose up. “Would you care to test how I might taste with jam on my skin?”
A squeak fell from her lips even as her body gave the most treacherous pulse of desire. “No.” But the hoarseness of her voice gave her away. She’d very much like to lick jam off him.
She was going to hell.
Or perhaps she was already there.
