Page 10 of Forbidden Obsession
Rahz stands. He’s so much bigger than me. I want to climb him and cling like a sloth, press my nose into his hair, and breathe him in. My best friend. My crush. My Rahz.
But the vulnerable look to his expression concerns me. Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way I feel after all. My heart sinks. Was that kiss only to make me feel better? Is there no deeper meaning?
I wring my hands in my lap, stewing over my next words carefully. “Sorry I tried to maul you.”
A slow smile lifts his lips and shoos away my undue worry. “It’s not that. Ilikedthat.” He hides his flushed face behind his hand, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his brows. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. This means something to me. I need to know it means something to you too before we”—he drops his hand and flutters his fingers between us in a frantic little motion I find perfectly adorable—“before we—”
I’m on my feet and hugging him to my chest so he doesn’t have to fret a second longer.
“Oof, okay.” He hugs me back.
I bury my face in his neck and mumble, “It meanseverythingto me.”
“You meaneverythingto me too.”
Next, we learna lotabout kissing together.
ChapterFive
~Ten YearsLater~
Rahz
Kissing Jindal ismy favorite hobby. It’s better than racing my favorite horse, Magna, better than binging on Bessa’s delectable pastries, even better than practicing my unruly magic. Nothing beats the soft, needy whimpers he makes as I ravish his mouth with mine.
I walk him backward through the barn to the wooden ladder that leads to our loft, my hands on his hips. We stall here for some time, him standing on the first rung, me caging him with my body. Like this, we’re the same height, perfect for indulging in our favorite pastime.
Kissing…and all that follows.
Our work today is finished. The animals have been cared for, the neighbor’s old fence mended, and the supper dishes washed and put away. Jindal’s father has the cottage to himself for the night, and we have our loft.
“Take me to bed, Rahz,” Jindal murmurs against my lips.
I chuckle. “I’m trying. Up the stairs you get.”
After a sweet kiss, he turns and climbs the ladder. I swat his bottom to hurry him along, then scurry up after him.
At the top is a wide ledge, big enough for the feather mattress we stuffed ourselves, two sets of drawers, and a little table with lounge pillows for seats. We don’t live here, not really, but we sleep here more often than not. I still have my room in my mother’s house, and Jindal has his place in his father’s cottage. But we’ve claimed the barn loft as our own, and it’s cozier than either of our proper houses.
In his rush to undress, Jindal flings his clothes everywhere. Blood rushes south as I admire each bit of peachy-pink skin he reveals—the lithe line of his spine curving while he tugs off his shirt, the muscles of his shoulders bunching, the perky mounds of his bottom bouncing as he shimmies out of his breeches.
He catches me watching, and a wide grin splits his face. “Like what you see?”
“You know I do.” I palm my cock, which is steadfastly growing too big for my leather pants. Jindal has this effect on me often. I have to be careful what I think about as we work side by side through the day so as not to embarrass myself with desire for him. He's a hard worker despite his tendency to tease and play. His muscles must be sore from digging all the postholes for the fence repair. When he’s satiated and boneless, I’ll give him a massage. Work the knots out. But not yet. After.
I lick my lips, mouth watering at the sight of his pretty cock jutting proudly from a patch of silky purple curls. He flops onto his back on our nest of blankets, legs parted, one straight and the other drawn up, as if he knows how irresistible that pose is to me. With a single crooked finger, he beckons.
Hurriedly, I add my clothes to the haphazard pile and join him. Jindal opens his arms for me, and I slot myself between his legs and drop my weight onto his chest. Our kisses are heated, wet, and sloppy as our bodies find a rhythm together, grinding and pressing in the practiced way we’ve developed over the years.
By the round moon, I love this. Love him. Love the life we’re building together, one project at a time. If only everything could stay this way, just like this, for centuries, but my fear urges me to treasure our peace while it lasts. The future is uncertain. Our world is changing.
Jindal draws me from my thoughts by sneaking a hand between us and wrapping it around our cocks. I ignore the world beyond our loft and fuck into his fist. Slow, lazy strokes turn urgent as our pleasure builds.
I tangle my fingers in his hair, grab a fistful, and tug just the way he likes. A delightful moan escapes his lips. He tips his head, offering his neck. I suck a mark into his skin that he’ll complain about in the morning but only teasingly. Not-so-secretly, I know he likes wearing my marks, or I wouldn’t make them.
“Want you now.” He arches and squirms, drawing up his knees.
“Yes.” I nibble his throat over the mark and shift downward to align our bodies. A bit of magic slicks the way for us, a path we know well.
