Page 22 of Revive
“It’s not wrong,” he agreed, which wasn’t an explicit agreement either, thus leaving her to stew over what he meant. After a moment, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Yeah, all right.”
Alle wiped the grease from her fingertips. “You’re agreeing?”
He’d never said yes to her without a battle, without some borderline coercive manipulation techniques being involved.
“Just like that. No quibbles. No arguments?”
“Fine, I won’t.”
“Oh, no.” She shifted onto her knees. “There’s no take backsies. You said yes, so you have to follow through.”
Spook blinked as if she’d called his honour into question. “Fine. If you’re sure you want this after you’ve just eaten.”
“I didn’t eat that much.”
“As you say.”
She hadn’t. She’d been too agitated. Or had she? Damn, now he had her second guessing herself, and besides, she’d still want his hands on her arse even if she’d just consumed a twelve-course banquet.
Spook swivelled around so he was facing forwards, no longer at an angle, but nearly square in the centre of the sofa. “Throw another couple of logs on the fire, then take that jumper off.”
“Knickers too?” she asked, as she did as instructed.
“I’ll deal with those myself.”
“Deal with them?”
“It’s not just about the sting in your arse, Alle. The aesthetics are important.”
“Are you going to take your clothes off?”
“Why would I do that?”
She knelt on the cushion edge beside him. “The aesthetics are important, Spook. I like looking at you naked, and if you’re not zipped up, I’ll feel your excitement more.”
That made him snort. “Oh, you’ll feel it. Over my lap now. I’m starting to think you’re stalling.”
She gave a flippant huff. “As if.”
Alle draped herself over his lap. Not for the first time, of course, but the first time in a good long while. Enough so that it made her nervous, evidenced by the fact she was aware of the heat of the fire on her bare feet and legs, and the texture of his jeans against her belly. Her elbows dug dips into the sofa cushions, and there was a clear wedge of heat against her left hip.
Spook’s breaths juddered as if he was fighting to keep them contained. An unmistakeable tremor began to run through his lower limbs. Was he thinking back to the last time? The consequences. Her fuckwit brothers, and the possibility of them charging through the door and hauling her off to safety? Those shivers didn’t feel as if they were entirely down to excitement.
Christ, if anyone came through that door right now, she’d throat punch them. Why the hell wasn’t there a bolt?
She noted that Spook’s hands were still raised, not yet rested on her. Unsettled, Alle wriggled, seeking out the expression on his face. He was all in the gloom. “For the love of God, Alle, will you be still?”
“I’m worried about you. You’re so quiet, and you’re shaking, I can feel it.”
“I’m fine.” His hands settled then, one on the small of her back, seeping warmth into her skin, the other near the base of her shoulder-blades, where the ends of her hair curled. He played with the strands a moment, wrapping the tresses around his fingers. The wait made it difficult not to squirm, but given he’d already warned her once, she didn’t want to test him by doing so again.
Negotiating with him had always been a lesson in patience.
Slowly, that hand upon her lower back moved up over the curve of her arse to squeeze the plumpest part of her cheek. He shucked the lace edging to one side near her thigh and drew his thumb along the seam of her split, catching her clit in the process. She heard him suck the wetness from his thumb, then, he gently peeled down her lacy shorts, so they formed a restrictive band around her upper thighs.
The first slap was more percussive than painful. The beat of it echoed off the stone walls. Alle shifted her head. Waiting. A second, then third followed, both still barely more than light swats.
“You’re not counting,” she observed.
